Paths and Collisions
by ConchaaDeChocolate
Summary: [[UNDER REVISION]] Just a story told through the eyes of Marleene, a girl who seems to stumble, rather than walk, through life; dragging with her a past full of baggage - A past that includes Phil Brooks, an indie wrestler known as CM Punk. PUNK/OC
1. White Horse

In the early days of forever, everything was bliss.

It was a time where we woke up to aggressive hangovers (the aftermath of living_ la vida loca_) but managed to find comfort nestled between each other's arms. It was a time where we'd spend day breaks roaming our newly leased home butt-naked and pounced on each other at every dead-end. It was where sunsets were enjoyed cuddled up on our thrifted futon watching the old boob tube. Everything seemed to be all that storybooks made it out to be: happy smiles, sappy romance, and glowing sunshine with no chance of rain.

"Man, you have such a way of firing shit up, like, damn! Always gotta dramatize _todo como si fuera un_ commercial. _Todo_."

Those words, and the ones that follow, buzz around me like a pesky mosquito that won't shoo no matter how much it's swat. Buzz, buzz, motherfucking buzz. An itch, a twitch, and boom there goes door. The rusty hinges might need replacing after this, "What the fuck, Marleene?"

"_That's _'firing shit up'." Growling so low, my own pitch is unrecognizable, "_This _is me trying to 'dramatize' everything!" Bye, bye to the purse sailing over the length of our living room, "Fuck you! Tell me how I'm suppose to react when I find that two bit, shop slink getting slick with you? Better yet, how am I to be about you reciprocating?"

His head bobs back like he's repulsed by the stench of week old laundry - if there's any - and furrows his thick brows together, "Girl," he stutters over the following vowels before vocalizing, "You're trippin'! I'm always tryin' to be nice a shit but ain't my fault if people make something of it!"

"Oh, really…" Rolls off the tip of my tongue neither out of incredibility or shock though. This is acceptance.

Somewhere along the way, aggressive hangovers were nursed in obsolete silence as we would be living at different hours, pretzeled comfort became half-assed arm drapes, midday turned into lunch dates that were rescheduled but never followed through with and required 'I love you' texts that so often were forgotten, and sunsets became rom-com marathons and busy housekeeping until boyfriend dearest decided to show up. Yeah, storybooks never dove into the blandness that forever _could_ and _would_ become.

"Being 'nice', when it comes to you, takes on a different meaning, Noah; a _whole_ different meaning."

"Oh no. Oh no, no, no," he chuckles humorlessly, "You're bringing this shit up again?"

Hands raised like I've been flagged down by the police, I slip off my shoes and sigh, "Honey, I'm not digging, really, but I have countless flashbacks of _all _the times you claimed to be 'nice' to women." I shuffle towards our bedroom, hearing his heavy footsteps behind me, "I commend you for being a kind fucker, I do." I go on, "I'd get ya' a plaque but you'd probably consider the pussies your dick has fallen, _accidentally_, into as rewards. Am I right?" I say. Nonchalant like I'm talking about the weather, "Every time I've seen you be 'nice' to a fucking bitch, you've been caught fucking them or a bra away from it!"

"You…you know that-" Ooh wee, child. Let's see what he has to say…, "Amor, you-" Noah's skimming through his inner textbook of lies. Looking, flipping, retracing, and ultimately finding nothing. He's used them all; down to the pettiest of petty.

"'You know that I'm only human, babe. I make mistakes but I always come home. I come home to _you_, to _love_ you, _amor._'" The faded leather recliner, the one I refuse to toss because my ass is so comfortably molded into it, squeaks as I drop myself onto it, "_Mami_, I know I always tell you this but this time, this time I will change. I'll be better. You'll see! I'll do coffee, I'll watch _Casablanca _a thousand times more, I'll even wash your clothes!" I imitate. "Did I pull the words straight out of your cute little mouth or have you anything fresh to add?"

Noah runs a motor oil stained hand across his adorable baby face, rolling his eyes – eyes which lure you in with a simple sparkle – and grumbles, "I. wasn't. doing. Jack-shit."

If today had lived up to infamous weather the Windy City is known for, it'd be down pouring. I'm talking rain so sudden, so fierce, it'd shut down the power. For all I care, in my forever, it's a-stormin', "That's what you always say…" I whisper, my windshield's not functioning all too well as rain is fogging up these windows of mine, "Why can't you just admit…"

My boyfriend balls up his fists and punches the drawer next to him, "I swear, you fucking went to the shop just to try to catch me slipping up! God fucking damnit, Marleene! Shit's so fucked! I promised you that I'd quit that sneaky shit but it's like you _expect _it!"

"We were down to max out at Chop Suey! I called you but you didn't pick up and then I walk in to see…to see that cunt…and you!"

Veins protrude from his muscled arms. I'm tap dancing on the edge of the plank, "Oh my Jesus fucking Christ!"

One-thousand eight-hundred and twenty-five, the amount of days we've spent building this life together. Some math, it's a total of five years. Half a decade celebrating series of holidays and creating memories. I've gotten around to creaming Noah's coffee to perfection because too much and he throws up, too little and he gags. The man doesn't bother to go incognito to the feminine product section anymore and even asks if I want my cooch to be scented or not. So, safe to say, this isn't the honeymoon phase, far from it. This is comfortable love that has been accumulated throughout the years.

But this, too, is a love that has been interfered by third-parties. Not once, twice, not even thrice, but seven and that's only a share of the official testimonies. And, to be honest, I am ready to throw in the towel. I've been ready, I think. Doubt, fear, and betrayal fuck with your confidence, fuck your psyche.

This is what I've been waiting for, another slip. This is it because sometimes, sometimes love ain't enough to run on anymore; sometimes you can't turn a blind eye anymore. "I expect it because you've done this to me, _Corazon_." My index finger's nail chips, I'm digging into the recliner. Eyes refuse to focus on anything than the stuffing, "I love… I love you much. It kills to love you but I do anyway. People have thrown so many jabs at me for keeping on after you fuck me over, but I stay. There's no lie, I love you but I… I…"

Moment of truth, can I do this, take another breath, utter that last blow and be done with this tale? Take a walk through these four walls - this is a place than has seen countless bouts of joy as well as countless riots. This is my home, this is my life. He's been my family…but family isn't one who hugs you and then stabs you.

Tears go by unnoticed as I travel up the legs of my dearly beloved. His attire speaks, and reeks, of a day full of grind and grime. Black substance, grease, and oil are patched onto his overalls and hands. This laborious body has seen hours of cuddles and affectionate stokes, my hands have roamed so heedlessly but have come to know every inch. So have others in between though, the thought invading my mind like a damn parasite.

Unbridled by the movement of his lips, I admire the godly bone structure that is his jaw, stubble ridden and ever strong. Core tingles roll through my body like sonic waves, them lips of his were a vindication. I'd be convicted if I were to say I wouldn't miss them. But they too have saturated by the senses of other women.

Before I can reach his eyes, I catch, "…just mad. Ima shower, we gonna go out for that Chinese, have a laugh, and call it a day, okay?" he plants a kiss on my temple, throws his wallet and phone onto our lumpy bed, and scurries into the bathroom. I'm left hanging.

Another truth, I would just be a of waste time. Today, tomorrow, the next…I'd still be here. I can't leave.

-ΔΔΔΔ-

The wash cycle is over with, judging by the beeping that is droning on. I should get it. I should. What's keeping me though is this obscenity: an ass only squats can perfect, cheeks spread apart like... I can't even...you could bounce a penny of the thing, goddamn it's perfect. A lacy, delicate forest green thong separating such perfection.

_You missed out ); – xo, L_

This text has had me hunched over for… I don't even know. I don't think I know anything anymore. My intention wasn't to snoop, no! Maybe it was but it was to prove that I wasn't crying "wolf" for nothing. I think I'm gonna go get the load of laundry.

A crash reverberates throughout the room as Noah's phone cracks into pieces and I blink not. My feet aimlessly drag towards the laundry room. My eyes have run dry, burn even, but I refuse to close them. Closing them would be blindness and I refuse that. I've been blind one too many times. I bundle the clothes and trudge to our little patio.

Undergarments float with such grace over the rail, spilling onto the autumn colored pile of leaves below. Perhaps the new neighbors will make some use of them. Yeah, consider them a gift, if they will.

"Babe, I need some boxers!"

"In the living room!"

As, I undress myself, I hear, "What fuck?" stomps of a raging bull come to reveal a purple towel wearing Noah. His face steaming the droplets remaining from his shower, "Fuck happened to _mi pinche telefono_?" his eyes moments away from bulging out their sockets, "Hm?"

"You missed out, boo. That's what someone by the alias, _L, _texted. I think she wanted an exchange of pictures; she sent her pussy." I look down at the tree trunks I call thighs. Cellulite. "Hers was more impressive." That plank I was tap dancing on a while ago, yeah, I've jumped ship; nothing but shallow water from here on out.

Pupils dilate, a jaw grinds so roughly it might crack, "What have I told you about snooping?"

Cynical, I might just be. I'm laughing at a moment like this. This is what it's boiled down to: him flipping a bucket over a piece of shit phone. He doesn't care for the fact that he's a hooked fish but me "snooping"? Dear God, the world is gonna come crashing down so help him! The consequences of having let him wipe his feet all over me.

Staring him straight in the eye, I see someone so unfamiliar it's alarming. This isn't the Noah who'd once-upon-a-time saved me from the dark. This is a total fucking stranger. Realization. I blink to see clarity, "Sorry but not sorry, Noah." His name foreign in my mouth. "I…I think that this…_we_ are through."

Blurting, "Wait a second! What in the hell?"

My feet respond before my brain and start inching towards the front door, "Take whatever. When I come back, you won't be here."

"What?" his tone of incredibility flowing through one ear and out another. I'm already fumbling around my purse, "This isn't over! _Estas pinche loca_?" By now, my heart in pumping at a rate so furious I can't hear a sound apart from my laborious breathing, "Marleene!"

Callous hands grip my upper arm, I flinch. Swat them off, "Don't. Touch. Me." God, I feel dirty. He's dirty.

And yet, I'm straining to free myself, declare myself a free bird. These chains keep yanking at me. It's a blur; I'm so utterly desperate to break through. His voice keeps escalating, "Who the fuck put you up to this?" and, "This was a fucking set up!" and, "No, no, you ain't going nowhere. I want an answer, bitch!" and it stops. Time itself skips a second and then its pain, incredible pain.

Clarity. This pain, unknown, is a remedy. No longer blind, no longer desperate for breath, I look up. My forever is over. It's been over. This storybook has been torn apart by the rabid animal before me - the same animal who was the Prince Phillip to my Briar Rose. His hand strikes down upon my face, I flinch and spit out metallic liquid. Blood. I look up, he's Maleficent.

And then, just like that, forever came to an end.


	2. Nightmares of the Bottom

"…she's picking up all these _calsones_, looking like a _gallina_-giraffe hybrid. Poor girl wasn't graced with anything, if ya' catch my drift. _Nada_. God is cruel sometimes." The old man sighs heartily but resumes, "Laughing, I go over and tell _la vieja_, '_Mira_, it rained _chones_!' Being the sourpuss she is, _me dice_ to mind my own and blah, blah, blah…"

A pottery mug is placed between my hands, and a still-steaming tea pot pours a tea-like concoction into said mug. The liquid has the properties and appearance of tea but take a whiff of it – dried cat piss. My nose retracts so far into my skull. Rosa, my motherly neighbor, motions for me to sip. I do.

Dear God, by all that's sacred, this is death inducing. This shit is Satan's preferred. The taste is a lone catalyst: bringing forth a cacophony of coughs, throat dissolving bile, and tummy flips. This is death.

"As he's complaining about how the people upstairs are cramping his mood, I'm wondering how I ever thought he was a _she_. I'm getting old, man." Clearing his throat, "I pat his shoulder and tell him that he's in for a rough time with an attitude like that." Rosa's husband clicks his tongue, "Why would a whitey settle around here? Probably got disowned by his rich folk parents. I mean, this kid looks like a druggie." Grubby fingers rub the whitened stubble along his chin, "Maybe he rolls the other way. I mean, what self-respecting man dyes his hair bleach blonde? Or dyes his hair at all? Or have shoulder length hair? This ain't the eighties!"

Bundles of nerves constrict as mini, plastic-wrapped icebergs are applied directly onto my battered ribs. The sheer coldness ignites feels like coal embers. Yes, it's so cold it's fucking hot. My eyes tighten and strain to keep salty tears at bay, to no avail. The ache subsides enough for me to unclamp my lips but…fuck.

"So, he's not gay but he _is _a wrestler. I got myself a bit too excited and asked him if he's met Stone Cold or Taker or…whoever!" Emmy's shoulders, "He laughed and proceeded to help Rosie with some grocery bags. So much for scoring some autographs…" he scoffs, "How is a skinny twig like him supposed to brawl with the big dogs anyway?"

Caretaker Rosa beckons for me to hold still as she slices the remains of my tattered shirt and lathers my back with a warm dishrag. It's the most comfort I've experienced since I met consciousness a few hours back. I can only describe it as orgasmic.

Without so much a forewarning, something is pulled from my back. The feeling of warm liquid runs down the narrow of my back. Blood. I'm presented with what looks like a shard of glass. Adrenaline is one hell of a natural high. Another piece is swiftly torn from my body and I keel over.

Emmy kicks over a trash can and blabs on but I can only catch fragments, "…just talking near his door as _la vieja_ stomps up the stairs… She scurries down the stairs, bags no longer in hand, and tells me to shut up…Phil's got his ears perked like some kind of hunting dog…Confusion…Bloody murder, these screams sound like _la pinche Llorona_! Phil wastes no time as he hauls...banging on your door-"

Yowling so pitifully, wolves would name me runt of the pack, I clench the crocheted throw like it'd help relieve any of this agony. Suppressed memories of my younger, clumsier days flood my mind; I've been doused in hydrogen peroxide. This irritant produces yet another wave of tears and feeling of internal burning. If not for the strong scent, I'd probably be passed out.

"_Por el amor de Dios todo poderoso, Emmanuel_! _No miras_? Don't you see that this child is bawling her eyes out? She's in excruciating pain and you blabbing on about _that _is making things much more unbearable!" The fair haired, middle aged lady sighs, audibly exhausted, "Go on and get ready for bed. Mar's pretty much in the clear for now."

Endearing, lively Emmy lightly taps my leg, "Sorry, kiddo." From there, he withdraws himself and retires into his own room.

And then there were three: nurturing Rosa and her abundant remedies, myself, and this never-ending misery.

-ΔΔΔΔ-

The digital clock strikes the witching hour and announces the dawn of another missed hour of sleep. Even with a measured cup of sleep serum, I've abided sleep and welcomed in newly formed bruises. They, the bruises, are bone deep. Open wounds limit me to one sleeping position but even that doesn't accommodate the rest of my aches. There's no winning this tug of war.

Concealed under all of this is the reality, mental, of why I haven't fallen victim to the Sleep King. For three years, I haven't been the only body in my bed. This full sized mattress isn't even mine but still. With another warm body, I feared not even the monster that crept under the bed. Another body meant safety. Another body was _him_.

"Marleene…" comes a distorted voice.

Holy fucking shit, I scream inwardly. I pull up the covers to nose-level and make not a sound. The door creaks so eerily and I can't seem to fade away to avoid discovery – I am a target now. A figure ghosts over to the foot of the bed. Close, so utterly close. Sweat begins to perspire from my pits and already trembling fingers tremble all the more. The mattress sinks.

"Don't…don't hurt me!" my vocal chords betraying my code of silence.

"It's me, Rosa, _cariño_." A familiar wrinkly hand wraps itself around mine, "_Dios_, you're shaking…"

"I'm scared," silence overbearing the room. I grip her hand tightly to ensure she's here to stay, "I can't…I can't sleep. I can't fucking sleep… _alone_." My voice cracks at the single thought of a vacated side of the bed, "I…I am alone," this unravels me, "I am alone, _mama_!"

Sweetheart, this neighbor of mine is a blessing in disguise. She rounds the headboard and slithers in next to me. Ever so carefully, as if I'm made of aged porcelain, she wraps an arm around me, "_Ay mija_." She strokes my bird nest mess of hair, "_Ese puto bastardo_…"

"If I hadn't done that…If…I wouldn't be alone." I murmur. A few hours ago, I'd been so ready, so confident in my decision. Now, I've come to realize that it was reckless, spur of the moment. I was blinded by hurt, disgust, anger which didn't allow for straight thinking, "I love him, _mama_. I love him but…" I've betrayed him and I'm mostly likely a public enemy in his eyes.

A gentle sigh, "This isn't an action of love, _mamita_."

-ΔΔΔΔ-

Morning has come and left with just a bat of an eye. At least it feels like that since I've spent my waking hours propped on the couch. My nervous system is as good as gone; I can't even feel my arms or ass unless I move. Plates and Tupperware full of breakfast, lunch, and brunch litter the coffee table, all calling out but none convincing enough to budge me.

"…and the lie detector determines that yes, Shaniya was having a sexual relationship with your brother, Tremaine!" the crowd erupts in wolf calls and boos as a voluptuous, if that's even correct, woman flails her arms, denying everything and more.

Snickers or any form of laughter aren't permitted as that means movement and movement isn't something I have the luxury of. This has brought me to tears and doesn't fail to now.

Upon waking, I'd waddled to the bathroom, wincing with each waddle, and nearly had a heart attack. My reflection was something like straight out of a horror film. Being next to nude allowed for a full viewing of what could be classified as a work of art. If Picasso ever used live models for canvasses, I'd surely be included in his Blue Period exhibitions. I'm fairly certain that out in the world, a person so fucked in the brain would get his rocks off to this. I, on the other hand, allowed for a splatter of acid to drip from my mouth. My back was, still is, a myriad of cuts, scrapes, reds, pinks, and hints of purple.

Bath time was spent sinking is self loathing. It'd hit full force how I'd wasted five entire years hoping, on an unanswered prayed, that God'd finally let me have this one. Five years sidelining any preplanned plans to root and support Noah's own. Five years in which Noah was my solitary reason, my everything and then some. Five years were done, past tense, because he'd strung me along for a mile too long; over indefinitely because he'd beat me into oblivion.

"_Oye_, _esta_ _mujer_ is gonna let you tent up at her house for the time being. I did a rundown of the perimeter and found no traces of that _rat_! _Anda_, go pack a bag and I'll have Em drive you soon as he comes home!" shouts Rosa from her place, in the kitchen where she viciously chops veggies, "_Si oyes_? Did you hear me? Your safe, _mamita_! Ain't nobody hurting you, again. Over my dead body." She mutters.

Even as she coddles me, this warmth passes over my heart. Mama Rosa is the warm hug I can depend on during solace, the handler of firmness, and voice guidance that never fails me. She delivers the love my own mother never could.

Following her instructions, I rise from the couch and head towards the main door. I welcome pain inner and outer with this. I'll be jumping ship and washing up on the shores of my best friend's home. Being here, in this building, will ensure admittance into psychiatric care.

Stumbling out into the hall, staring straight at Apartment Fourteen, I see the indent of a giant footstep a couple inches away from the know. Who would've thought that the spunky youngsters, fresh out of high school, who moved in three years prior would end up like this?


	3. Cinema

Though I grew up under the roof of thrill-seeking, violence-loving, horror film fans, jump scares never flopped. All, and I mean _all_, of those saw-them-coming-from-a-mile-away pop-ups got me. The on-screen debut of the alien in the late-seventies, groundbreaking, sci-fi flick _Aliens_, damn near sent me into cardiac arrest! I was nine…and my live-in uncle had pointed out the scare beforehand. To this day, that same bastard won't let me live it down!

From observations, I gathered that the general audience fears not what's _on _the screen, but rather what's off it. It's a mental thing. It's visualizing this acid-dripping alien silently lurking in your own shadow, it's the mutated reptile that keeps evading your radar, it an axe-wielding lunatic that's tip-toeing up your stairs while you're sleeping. The simple image is what sends shivers up and down your spine and blotches your body with goosebumps because you're building up what _you _fear.

That's just it. What I cannot see is what's holding me back: has me sweating out a weave I don't even have, has me chattering my teeth so much that my gums are crying out, and makes all the limbs my body contains spasm like parts of a malfunctioning robot. This is called fear, and I'll be damned, it's strong.

Fear alone is all that separates me from certain chaos. The rusty, embossed numbers on the vandalized door hang loose; they create a rhythm from the vibrations my hands are giving by just holding the knob.

"Get a grip, Marleene. It's safe. Open the door; you can do this." It's like I'm potty training again except this time around, I'm my own cheerleader, "Come on, jump over this hurtle." And…I've cramped up, like, my hand is brain-wave challenged, for brevity.

Literally, this damned shit is egging on an up-and-coming anxiety attack. My knees have all but toppled me over and I have to remind myself to breathe every other whimper. God is probably having the time of his life. I brought this upon myself. I'm a born sinner. Satan must be banally coming up with new ways to tantalize me. What my father _wouldn't _say. Oh, I know what exactly he'd say…it's what he'd do! My lung has probably deflated, I forgot to breathe!'

Then, if there was ever a moment to gain courage, I muster all the power my hundred and twenty-six pound body will allow and fling the door open. My hands won't allow sight but my hearing is perfect and all that fills my over-worked brain a seismic thump.

A single cough forces my eyes open and holy fucking shit. What planet have I been transported to and how do I go back? Where's the alt-control+delete button on this? No word in my extensive vocab, perhaps even the dictionary, can describe what lies before me. Havoc, if there's a meaning, a word appropriate or close enough. Pure fucking havoc.

Lockport hasn't ever really seen harsh weather, but my apartment appears to have been smackdab in the middle of Tornado Alley. This could be a backdrop for the weather channel's _Stormchasers_.

No need to scavenge, wander aimlessly and there will be destruction.

Upholstery piles out of gashes made on the overturned futon. My cherished coffee table, the one Pops hand-me-downed as to keep it in the family for generations to come, is but a remnant of its former self. Chairs and the lone table, same ones that were bought with money from my college savings account, are damage in one way or another. Fake flower stems stick out of the TVs' shattered screen. My personal belongings sure as hell haven't been spared; they lay strewn about the perimeter like fallen soldiers.

This is all materialistic shit, replaceable. These things, they made up what I called a home.

Soon as my eyes flounder around my prized possessions, I crumple to the floor. Irreplaceable, indispensable, survived decades of birthdays, Christmases, Easters – _Abuelita_ Dolores' priceless china. The set was like my Holy Grail! Once priceless and proudly displayed behind a case is now nothing but worthless bits and pieces of ceramic.

Flabbergasted but I can't even cry. My tear ducts have run dry like the Sahara. This is surreal…it has to be.

There's evidence, physical, that this is reality though. It's dried up but so, so distinguishable against the beige carpeting. With its' poppy crimson now browned tinge: blood. It occupies a good amount of surface area.

Scampering over, I rip off the plain white tee Emmy lent me and begin to scrub furiously at the stain, desperately pleading for this to be easier than throwing something under a rug. Yeah…no. The stain simply multiplies! The faint odor only intensifies; intoxicating perfume but far from pleasant. Morbid would be better wording.

Yet, through all of this, I don't deter from my motive. I'm working out some intense core exercise. Sweat drips consistently, running down the tip of nose. Tears gather in the mix. It's literal: blood, sweat, and tears. _He _can't win, not this time – I refuse to hail another white flag.

"This is just making it more difficult for you, ya' know?" Instant fibro dysplasia: every nerve ending stiffens.

As I said, jump scares never flopped for me, even cheap ones. Difference is I could cover my eyes with a pillow because it was a damn movie and nothing more. Here, in real time, no pillow could effectively save me from harm's way.

Survival instincts dive in and I snatch up the quickest defense in reach, a glass shard. Somehow, I evade gravity and swivel around – on my feet – and shriek, "Back the fuck up!"

To my grand relief and utter abhorrence, it's just a bewildered stranger. Still horrifying as there's a fucking _stranger_ – someone unknown to me – in the disaster that used to be my living room. It's a man, a Sasquatch of a man, except less hair and less mythical. His hands held up in defense still vibe off intimidation.

Looking at him, looking at me, look at him, I manage to spit, "Who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Phil. I helped bail you out. You don't remember, considering the situation, but I did," he makes to inch forward, "so if you could put that do-" I strike, missing skin by a thread. He reels back, "Okay, easy there. I just…"

Unaware to the fact that he's under heavy observation, this character talks my ear off. It's like he's talking me out of jumping off a ledge! I'm not crazy! I am a woman, abused and unsettled, ticked at even a drop of a hat.

Have I mentioned how off-putting his mere presence is? His head is a foot away from touching the ceiling! This is an apartment for ants, like me. I'm five-four, how in the blue hell am I supposed to throw the motherfucker off if he comes at me? While he's not exactly built like a tank, he's got something going on under his worse for wear crew-neck, including some ink. Ten times out of ten, I'm so fucked…and without a shirt.

"…and since you're checking me out, you clearly see that I'm not a deranged, killer clown. I got some tattoos but, seriously, I'm a guy with bleached hair, pierced lip, some makeup, and a Pepsi logo tattoo!"

My eyes shoot straight up to meet his gaze; he's working towards a smirk. I see it in his eyes, a convoluted mixture of mossy green and liquid good, and through the twitch of his lips. This _is _the wrestling, drug addicted, non-homosexual that Emmy was going on and on about!

A weak hiss whistles through my teeth as the shard between my hands drops and shatters. Blood, and all its' warmth, streams down as well separating like my fingers are deltas.

"Jebus," mutters the lad. The searches the ground for something and comes back with panties – my fucking panties – dangling between his fingers. He motions for my hand and makes said panty into a poor-man's bandage, "Sorry I'm gonna ruin some such a nice pair."

-ΔΔΔΔ-

Drop us in an abandoned Western set and there'll for sure be a shrub rolling by in the synthetic breeze. If you wanna be more elaborate, give us a warning shot and stream a b-roll of ravens flying into the sunset. This is the calm before the storm. This is the infamous showdown. This…

Cut!

To be honest, we're rooted inside a room that's been flipped upside down. I'm boring holes into the soiled carpeting, pretending that my undergarments aren't near Sasquatch's feet (and every other inch of this shit hole) whilst pretending that there isn't a goddamn panty soaked in blood wrapped around my hand. Opposite me, the new neighbor vacantly stares off into whatever space isn't filled with garments or my semi-exposed torso. If awkward took over in the form of liquid, we'd be drowning in it.

"Your aim isn't that shitty, right?" the question opens up my sinuses; I stare up the length of him to find a solid look of hope.

Snorting, however unladylike, I respond, "If I'd been gifted with any ounce of dexterity, you can bet your ass you'd be convulsing on a hospital cot." Icy, it must sound so but I'm bugged. This could've been a potential homicide!

Merely raising an eyebrow, he crosses his arms, "Well shit…what a nice welcoming committee." The lightheartedness soothes me; I relax a bit, "In all seriousness, I didn't mean to give you a heart attack. I'd just come in from a jog and did a double take. Your door was open," he shrugs slightly; "I donned my dusty vigilante cape and dropped by to inspect. That scumbag hasn't any business around here after the shit he pulled."

"_Dios todo poderoso_!" the hairs on the back of neck stand upright. My eyes turn their focal point to a shell shocked Rosa. She heaves, her dainty hand clutching her chest, "Did that rat bastard sneak right under our noses last night and do this?"

An eerie, uncomfortable shiver undulates through my body at the thought. I've no recollection of anything other than the whirlwind blow that sent me into blackness.

Then it hits me, I didn't check anywhere else other than the kitchen, dining area, and living room which is all pretty much connected. If he came in, if he came back…? This is no luxury penthouse that I speak of. This is a one bedroom type deal. There isn't much space to play hide-and-seek but there's always a possibility.

Gulping, I catch Phil's reflective eyes and see the abhorrent terror in my own, "Ladies, I'm going to do a round, stay outside."

And I'm partially dragged out of my own home.

"Why are you half naked, _muchacha_?" asks my caretaker, her tone reprimanding almost.

In a time like this, the least of my worries, and hers, should be this! Words usually stream fluidly from my mouth but right now, I've worked up some sort of speech impediment, "Noah, he…happened! Noah fuck…fucked me over! He destroyed _Abuelita's_ dishes!" My voice reaching levels unknown to man, "He…he broke…me! _Mama_, he left me! I can't think, I can't move, I can't breathe…it _hurts_."

And every time after the alien's reveal, I'd tell myself that I wouldn't cringe or shake or jump when it'd pop up again: what a lie that was. I'd duck under a blanket, behind a pillow, slap a hand over my eyes every damn time. No matter how many times that damned alien snuck on screen, it didn't make it less horrifying. It was still cornering the crew members. It was still slicing and dicing them left and right. It was fear but also a sense of helplessness wafted through me when that poor woman was cornered.

Unlike that woman though, I loved and love the monster. He's kept me alive to live in fear and that's worse than dying. He's lurking in my shadow, waiting to catch me unexpectedly. The bastard tore down my safe haven to instill fear and a message that I'd be safe nowhere. He knows my weaknesses, my fears.

Her arms engulf my entire being, like she's hearing my inner thoughts. I struggle and I fight, "Why the fuck should my tits half being out matter when I'm a fucked bitch?"

After a couple of the most grueling moments, the bleach blonde appears in the hall with no sign of seeing evil. I'm sedated enough; I manage to say, "I am so very thankful for all that you've done, considering you don't even know me. I'm also sorry about earlier. I'm just…" I exhale, "I'm just shaken up."

He acknowledges, almost bashfully, it with a simple nod, his unkempt hair falling around his eyes, "It wasn't anything, really. Anybody who has some morals wouldn't stand by."

"I can't thank you enough either. This is my little girl," Rosa squeezes me, but all I'm fiending for is a rock to crawl under. She sends a tight lipped smile at the boy, "How about you come over to my little, humble abode and share a meal with Marleene and me before I ship her away? You look like you could use a good plate of _Caldo de Camaron_."

To my relief, the boy with the Pepsi tattoo declines. Something about it being late and how he still has to search for his sister's house. According to him, he's from around here but hasn't visited in a long minute. Bullshit to my ears! Then again, I'm not feeling for a conversation filled meal.

But, God be damned, my surrogate mother pushes on! Fucking Mexicans and their hospitality…, "I'm not even trying to be _that _guy, but I'm gonna be driving around without GPS or a map. Plus, I'm trying to surprise my sister, Mackenzie, before somebody opens their mouth about me."

"Brooks, Schiller, or Jones?" I blurt out before my brain can catch on.

There's only three girls with that name around the area, one of them happens to be my best friend…who happens to have a brother…who always phones her in the middle of our nightly talks…who also hasn't been in the picture for years.

"Come again?"

My nails scratch my palms; this annoyance of having to repeat myself is like an itch. I didn't stutter but whatever, "Is your sister the pregnant one, a lesbian, or a coke head?" I hiss as Rosa whacks my shoulder, "What? If his sister is Micks, I'm flying there anyway," I nearly bite _Mama's_ head off. Understand me, I'm surviving and if I don't abandon this infested spaceship, I'm as good as dead. I turn back to Phil, "If she's a merry little pregnant girl with a kid, Dominick, and a husband who's deployed overseas, I will help you get there in exchange for a ticket to ride."

As if my desperation wasn't enough, he scours the clusterfuck of shit around him, and back at me, "I'll help you pack."

"Wait...is that a _calson_ tied around your hand? Why is it caked in blood?" again with these irrelevant questions...,"Is that blood on Emmy's shirt too?" I facepalm as my new - ex - neighbor looks on with a ghostly little smirk on his face, "Marleene, _dame una respuesta_!

-ΔΔΔΔ-

Teetering the skids, often, when it comes to making decision, I find that it's like a rare disposition. Most of the time, I make up my mind on the spot without further consideration which always leads to resentment. I mean, if I'd used at least a fourth of my brain, instead of thinking out of my ass, I'd easily evaded this burdened affliction!

The pinnacle of my ass-hattery might have been at the very beginning of forever: three years ago.

Before the residential contract was set in stone, I'd been rummaging through the last of my belongings. Such a feeling of euphoria withered throughout my body. On some serious shit, my lips were stuck in a perpetual smile for the past seven weeks.

Any who, the old man had come around, cared not much for small talk though, which wasn't much of a surprise. He'd gotten straight to the nitty-gritty: was this move towards independence with Noah really my endgame? The question didn't need spoken words, we both knew it. And you know, Pops didn't rage out, throw a curveball my way, or even try to implement doubt in me. With a candid blessing and hug, he dropped the news that he was uprooting his life and planting it out in Maryland: taking the fam-bam with of course.

"_Ya sabes_, _mija_, my house will always be a refuge when you need one," he'd pinched my cheek, like he would when I was a kid, "_Siempre seras_ my little _borreguita_." In that moment, my beer-bellied Pop's acceptance made it seem worth it, like I was ready.

But showing up in Maryland with my tail between my legs would be a fatal stab to my pride. Perhaps my dad would expect it. Hell, he's been expecting it, but he'd go on a witch hunt once news of the three-hit fight catches wind and I can't have that.

If only this epiphany had come sooner…

Correlating with ass-hattery and being a dumbass, it has dawned upon me that I'm about to spend twenty minutes with a complete stranger. Sure we're on a first name basis and shared some small talk whilst fumbling around my apartment but that's it. My memory is a blank slate: no recollections, no sense of familiarity, or nothing. He doesn't even sound like the brother that always calls This cat could be en route to pulling a Ted Bundy!

It's not polite to assume but…holy shit! Why didn't I think of that before? This heroic act, gentleman schtick…Ted fucking Bundy. This is some movie shit, "Holy shit!" I squeak, halfway stumbling over my two feet.

The man under heavy suspicion twists around, "Trouble?" the hairpin curve of his lips looking every bit the word.

Cringing, "Yeah," I tug the collar of my burly, borrowed sweater and pass off a cool laugh, "I'm good, no worries."

The quirk of his shaped brow sends me something that reads like, 'Yeah, right'. Another fleeting second passes before he relieves me of my rolling luggage, "For being 'good', you don't half as hot," the singe creeping up my neck has already touched base with my cheeks. "At least you have some color now. You've been carrying a shade of pale. You aren't seconds away from passing out, are ya'?"

Back in grade school, I made it a goal to weasel my way into the nurse's whenever and however I could. I'm no Grand Master of Deceit but I gained a set of adequate acting skills. So, this is my time to put them to work, "Actually I am…" but he seems so genuine. Those eyes, God, they couldn't deceive anybody. Seriously, there's a certain _thing _about them and how expressive they are.

"Okay, hold on. Let me put some of this down. You're 'bout to face plant, I can tell," Did I mention, he's juggling a couple boxes of my shit?

"No!" I boom. He blinks, bewildered by my outburst, "I'm _peachy_. Its cold, maybe a little dense, and the shock…it's still if full effect. I'm fine, really," I add a toothy smile for an extra measure.

Another weary stare before swiveling around, "Sure."

A variety of grunts and murmured cuss words float around in the background as the man's busies himself with the loading and I poise myself against this rusty, four-door sedan, per his orders.

The run of the mill building was a place where I built my entire life around. Between Noah and me, we'd daydream of the many afternoons our kids would spend raising hell at the park just across the street. One of us would attempt to go down the slide as the other would push another kid as high as the swing set would permit. Noah would race our kid to the front door and I'd carry the drained one. Our ridiculously curly-haired girls would sit atop a bed sheet and play tea party in the grassy front of the building as our all Mexican-American boys wrestled around over their shared soccer ball.

Shoulders drooped, I sigh. All that remains is a barren wasteland free of rascals, but littered with autumnal colored leaves and men's undergarments.

A hand deftly clamps down on my shoulder riling up a frivolous squeal. My soul, oh my poor soul, damn near propels itself somewhere out into the heavens. I glare at Phil, half as embittered, "You spaced, damn." I shimmy, his hand falls, "You're shaking, girl. What's up with you?" well shit, he's gone from Ted Bundy to playing Dr. Phil!

"I'm just thinking…" and boy, it kills.

He scratches his chin, "Yeah, you women tend to do that…a lot." I scoff, "It's true!" I roll my eyes. He chuckles, "Denial!" he taps the top of the sedan, for a second I fear it'll fall apart, and says, "C'mon, let's get a move on." he opens the passenger door for me.

"Are you really Mackenzie's brother?" I blurt.

Time and space halt. My saliva dissolves; my fingers start to clam up. What if I've caught him up? He's reaching into his pocket, what if he's gonna shank me? That shit would hurt like a bitch! Check out the number on my back, he'd have to resort to some frontal action. I'd definitely be visiting the ER. Fuck, why? Why did I ask? I'm so dead, so, so dead.

Oh my god, he's pulling out…_his wallet_, "Un-bunch your little panties, get some color 'cus I am her brother," he flips open his tattered wallet and streams through various pictures of Micks and her kiddo, "I left like a decade…? Yeah, a decade ago and came back for a few hours back in '02, I believe."

Color me embarrassed and proclaim me the feminized Kool-aid Man. All along, he knew… I slap my hands, a tad too hard, on my face. Through slits, I can make out another smirk; I swear they're like a trademark.

"I am _so _sorry, Phil." A quirky, wheezy laugh blows through my lips, "It's just, I'm like a face detector…yours, I don't… and then Noah…I'm kinda weary," can I, please, shut my face? I'm blubbering on like I'm brainwave-challenged, "I'm just going to get into this car and we're going to pretend like I didn't put any feet in my mouth, okay? Okay."

This is cringey-gold and he's gonna be laughing all the way to the bank.


	4. 99 Problems

Prior to this scandal, I'd never known what felt like to have a broken, torn, dislocated, or injured anything. I know, I know, it sounds like an over exaggeration but 'tis the truth. Kids go through broken ankles, broken arms, whatever. I went through packs upon packs of Band-Aids, bottles of peroxide, and bags of cotton balls and maybe the occasional cold pack. I was clumsy but not brittle-boned.

So, this morning, I woke up to a full blown dosage of sizzling hell. Fuck having a broken heart, my diaphragm and lung were doing a killer set on my ribs. Dipping from Rosa's had been no walk in the park either. Damned, yet blessed, woman all but hugged my internal organs out of place! This little twenty minute merry-go-round was a mix of pot holes, quick brakes, and brutal turns.

Just when I thought I was out of the woods, when I thought my dose of ultra-fucking-agony wasn't amped enough, I'm rammed by a freaking Metra. Okay, not a Metra but close to it: a heavily pregnant tiny thing of a woman wobbling full-speed into me – if there's any _me _left.

"Oh my god, babycakes…" she squeals in my ear. There's a growing lump in my throat. I ready to burst into tears. This is excruciating like my skeleton has been realigned! I just want to sing the song of the dying whales but…I can't. My best friend, sister, is knocked up. Knowing how my surrogate is, she probably divulged the entirety of the fiasco that went down yesterday. I can't begin to imagine the anxiety that the news gave my poor Mackenzie. No crying…for now.

"She's been busted wide open, Mack! Handle with care."

Micks's entire frame goes rigid. She pries herself off me. I let out a sigh of relief and sulk by the car, watching. Her mouth agape, she follows the voice like she's seen the light.

About my friend here is that she's a chatterbox. There's no red light to that mouth of hers. It's shocking to hear nothing, uncharacteristic.

"Well you're looking big as ever."

Something turns the motors on inside Mackenzie's head and she rumbles back to life, "Philly, you're…" she points a chubby finger to the grounds, sky, me, the car – everywhere. In typical, dramatic fashion, the girl tapes a hand over her mouth, breathing profoundly, and tears brim her hazel eyes, "You're here, asshole."

'Philly' throws away that signature smirk of his, nodding, "Missed you too, asshole." He circles the front of his sedan and embraces his visibly younger sister. Planting a firm kiss atop her dirty blonde hair, he mutters, "Stop this emotional shit, we have an audience, Mack." He chuckles as she playfully swats him.

From the sidelines, I've found confirmation: the kid's definitely a Brooks. I also find myself sweating out tears, pain and pleasure.

Between her excitement and pestering, we manage to drag her to her house 'cus the afternoon is chilling down but same is same: here or outside, it's freezing nips. This burly sweater ain't basking in anything!

I trail the bleach blonde as he steers his rambling sister towards the table. Is she getting new furniture, I ask myself. Bumping into her coffee table, I get a glimpse of half sealed envelopes littered all over and maybe a checkbook, "I see y'all have reacquainted, how weird is that? Almost ten years…"

Averting my eyes, I grab a chair next to her, "Come again?"

"C'mon, silly, I'm talking, you and Philly." Whatever she's getting at with that pushy smile of hers, I'm not receiving, "Phil, you remember Mar, don't ya'?"

The man in question looks up from inside the fridge, "If you mean, if I remember her from yesterday, sure as hell I do," he mumbles, bologna hanging from his mouth.

Shit on a stick, I don't even remember him from yesterday. All I have to his rugged face and beautiful eyes is today. "I had someone else in mind, actually. You'll get filled in on how we met today, but I seriously didn't – still don't – recognize this brother of yours," remembering the incident(s) makes me cringe, "Given that, he still came to my Hallelujah: saved yours truly."

"True story," adds the brother, "I can add that to my ever-growing resume if 'rasslin' doesn't work out. It'll read something like, 'Phil Brooks: plays Batman in his spare time, plays with men in underwear for a living," says the hero of the moment, looking ever so bad ass with a sandwich in hand and pop in the other, "You'll vouch for me, won't you, Marleene?" he winks and a meek smile appears on my face.

Eyes rolling, the pregnant lady in between quips, "Calm down, spunky. You already got the girl."

The man nearly chokes on his soda, "Shut up, kiddo." I cover a smirk of my own.

The wickedly ancient chair creaks against the laminate floor as this hulk of a man plops down on it with such carelessness. He fusses around trying to readjust himself and the creaking, squeaking – talk about nails on the chalkboard. The damned thing is on the last of it's' legs and that body size is pushing it! He's not no normal person, he's an Andre the Giant motherfucker.

"Quit this, 'I'm a modest fuckface', act you got rollin'. Nobody in the vicinity is buyin'." Micks then turns to face me, "Back in, like…at the birth of his wrestling career, Charming over here had them ring rats swooned. For a time, they called him, 'Chick Magnet'. His little show name is CM Punk so it fit but kid was a fuckin' dork…" she giggles, "Oh boy, you remember, I know you do!" And, in reality, I'm blanker than a new college-ruled notebook!

After couple more rounds of rowdy banter between the siblings, conversation shifts towards the mood sobering reality of what was yesterday. By the end, my best friend was petrified and by that, I'm talking about lifting my sweater and revealing a canvas smeared with cold colors and a back washed out with warm ones. The second I discovered those weepy eyes of hers, I knew I'd ruptured the bubbly joy her brother's homecoming created.

"…said the car had seen the roughest of times but always managed to finish the journey. That's the last time I listen to those shithead paper ads," grumbles Phil, storytelling us about the detour to a shop a ways before arriving in Lockport.

"How long do you have?" The olive-green eyed man scratches the side of his neck, contemplating. His sister looks on, her soft smile wearing down, "C'mon, you knew this was coming."

He clears his throat, "I know, I know…" he takes a sip of his soda, downing it like an alcoholic shot, "Couple of days," he slides his hands over the condensation on the pop can, "Two…three tops," he shuts his eyes tight as if awaiting some kind of wrath.

It never comes, "At least you're finally home," her smile outlined but forced, "even if it's for a quick glance. One of my men…" she drifts off, "I missed you, big bro. I really did," her smile quivering, "I really fucking did."

Times like these, when she's all sentimental talking about her "boys" make me wish I had the ability to fly in from wherever they may be. This time, she's referencing the husband she hasn't seen since she discovered that she's with child. Months. The guy is half way round the world fighting for that red, white, and blue. It's a different kind of war out here. It's seeing a vulnerable Micks fighting tooth and nail to keep her tiny family afloat: financially and emotionally.

"Auntie Marley!" shouts a high pitched voice instantly quirking my lips upwards. It is my beloved, four year old nuisance, Dominick.

"_Papi_!" I shriek, exuding the same enthusiasm as he sprints into my arms (my_ sore _arms). Holding back a groan, "Did you go through a growth spurt, kiddo?"

The munchkin wiggles out of my arms, giggling, "You're so silly! I can't grow in two days!"

"Oh, really?" curling my lip, "You must be turning into a giant!"

The beautiful sound of childish giggles resound throughout the house as my fingers tickle his sides. His mother, her face composed, taps his miniature shoulder and nods her head towards the newly arrived house guest.

"This is your uncle Phil, honey. He's my brother, the one in with spiky orange hair in that picture I showed you, 'member?"

Speculating his mother's words, Dominick inches towards the tower-sized stranger. Up and down, down and up. It clicks. Dom glances back at his mom, nods. Encouragingly, "Cat got your tongue? Say, 'hi'."

Little guy clasps his hands together, moving them around like he's solving a Rubik's cube. His head bobs my way, orbs holding such uncertainty – asking for assurance. A simple smile from me, "I rode with him for twenty minutes straight, he doesn't bite." I send a wink at an oddly squirmy Phil.

"Hey, Champ. I'm your uncle, Phil," states the man, his voice softened, almost silky, "You don't remember me. Last time I was here, you were this big," he motions with his hands.

"Mommy's shown me pictures, Uncle Phil. You didn't look so big in them though."

I let out a muffled laugh, so does Momma Bear, at the six foot wrestler's expense, "I guess cameras have that effect when it comes to me…" he smiles, "Between you and I though, I prefer 'Uncle Punk'. Sounds more…more…kickass."

"Language!" whines Mackenzie and Dom giggles.

Apart from the vast difference in age as well in height, the resemblance between uncle and nephew is uncanny. Can't really articulate anything other than physical qualities, "Me too, it sounds cooler," agrees the toddler, "Does that mean that you like video games?"

Punk taps his chin, "Hm...depends. You wanna show me which ones you got?" The toddler lights up, "I'll race ya!" and he's off like the races and so is an amused Phil. "Don't break anything!" Micks shouts after them.

Taking a moment to take in the woman who seems as though she's aged overnight, I realize that in she isn't quite plump. It's just her belly that looks like a tumor growing. The rest of her is frail, almost too delicate to touch. Her vibrant, wavy dirty blonde hair seems to have thinned out. Her eyes bore deep bags and her cheeks seem hollow. Have I really been so caught up with in my own problems to ignore hers? "Do I have something on my face?"

I blink, "We need to talk, don't we?"

"Well if there are more details about you and Noah's fallout...yes."

I shake my head, "It's always almost the same thing with me and him. You and everybody and the parlor are like broken records. I'm talking about you," her confused face tells me she isn't following, "You're worried about Ace, aren't ya?"

ΔΔΔΔ

Two gallons of ice cream later, I'm bordering brain-freeze and pneumonia while Micks is out like light. I envy her, being as full and cold as I am, but then again it was for her own good: girl was balling her eyes out over her desperation and need to see her husband.

Ever so quietly, I slide off the couch and tiptoe over to the TV where "Pearl Harbor" is playing, grab the phone, and head in the direction of her room for some blankets. Passing Dominick's door, my curiosity gets the better of me, I decide to sneak a peek. Surely enough the boys a heavy into some boxing game on the kid's Xbox console. Bit of banter here and there; Dom has a knack for befriending people. As I'm set to go, "Uncle, you know my dad is a soldier, right?"

"I've heard. Only the bravest become soldiers."

"I bet! But I was wondering if you knew when he's coming home," asks the youngster and I feel my heart beginning to fall, "Halloween is so close and it'd be cool to go trick-or-treating with him."

The screen pauses and the bleach blonde turns to his young nephew. His expression is caught between contemplative and hopefulness, "If I could, I'd bring your dad home this instant, kiddo, I would. Thing is, we just have to wait it out. Something that's for sure is that he's coming home," and then unexpectedly the man grunts in pain. He hold his chest as if it something might burst out, and that's when I know he's playing.

Dom though, he's all over him like a bug, "Uncle! Uncle, are you okay?"

"I'm hurt. You seem like chilling with me isn't as fun!"

I laugh quietly, "I do! Please get better, I'll let you win!"

Shivering, I carry on. Upon opening Micks's door, a ghostly breeze drifts by making me shiver all the more. Entering I find that the crazy chick has the window open. It's freezing nips outside, crazy ass! Scrounging around the room looking for an extra set of blankets as to not strip Mrs. Brooks-Welsh's bed entirely, I can't help but think of how well Phil carried out that scene with Dom. If it'd been Noah, he would've just botched the whole thing with his negativity - he wasn't a fan of the army or authority in general - and there'd been tears and dirty glares.

Noah is irrelevant, Marleene. He fucked you over and up. Groaning, I open a closet and spot so,e more blankets and a box with glitter letters that sparkle from the setting sun. "Mar & Micks's - KEEP OUT!" the scrawled out letters read. My interest is sparked but then again it'd be considered snooping. _Reminder: ask Micks's about box._ Lifting myself and the mountain of blankets off the floor, I walk, quietly as can be, out the door.

"...she's the bestest! She teaches me Spanish and the ABCs!"

"Really? Sounds like she's a good teacher. Maybe I would've learnt something from her if I'd had her."

A humbled smile makes it's way onto my face. Not being arrogant but I know they're talking about me which is nice considering whenever somebody talks about me, it's usually to blurt out shit.

"Maybe but she's an awesomer tattoo artist! You should see, Uncle Punk! Once she did a really cool Pokemon one on this girl..."

"She's a tattoo artist? That's pretty freakin' awesome," replies Phil.

"She's awesome, but uncle can I ask you somethin'?"

_Stop meddling, Marleene_, "Go ahead, Champ."

"Why does Auntie Marley have so many boo-boos and can't open her eye?"

_Oh God_... My lungs disinflate. My heart plunges into the acidic pool of my stomach enzymes. Obviously kids are curious creatures by nature but this catches me off guard. How is this guy gonna break it down for Dominick? The boy is intuitive and could always sense that Noah didn't take to him and he reciprocated those feelings; point is that I don't want to turn this child's feelings of dislike into hate...he's too young to feel such a strong and ugly emotion.

Readying myself to barge into that room to make any random excuse to deviate from the pending answer, "Um...Champ, why don't we pause this little _chimichanga fiesta_ and have a man-to-man talk?"

The little ray of sunshine giggles a bit, "Okay? You know I'm only four?"

His uncle joins in, "And I'm twenty-five and people still call me 'kid'," he clears his throat, "Seriously now. One day, Champ, one day you'll find that special little woman that'll blow your mind in every way imaginable, you'll want to tie her down and keep her forever. Sure she'll drive you nuts, women are crazy by nature," he laughs a little bit, " but it won't matter because you'll want to protect her against all evil. That, young grasshopper, is what we humans identify as love. Now, when you love someone you don't treat them bad no matter how bad they hurt you. Trust me, Champ, that girl will make you the maddest guy on the planet. Your brain will tell you to lash out at her but listen and listen closely, never ever hit her. Understand? We, as men, we don't hit women because once we do that... our man card will be taken from us and all we'll ever be are cowards."

Someone put that in the freaking bible, in a freaking ad, a fucking commercial. That speech just left me speechless. Made my night, my day. This man is one hell of a man for having just said that.

"But girls are gross!" exclaims Dominick in utter disgust. _Boys..._

"Tell me about it; that's why we men have to stick together," replies the man who just left me flabbergasted. _And again, boys..._

ΔΔΔΔ

Maneuvering my way into the kitchen, seeing as Micks is out cold, I dial up my boss. It rings five times before I give up and try the parlor's phone, "You're talking to Wesley, what's up?"

"Bonehead, it's Marleene! Are you working on somebody?"

"Babygirl! Where have you been hiding-" a distinct woman's voice pulls him away momentarily, "Sorry, Luz is over. Again, where you been, 'chacha?" Last time I was seen, I'd been briskly throwing on my trusty leather, Babyphat jacket readying myself to raise hell on whatever unlucky female I'd catch with a certain cheating ex-boyfriend, "Issues. Irrelevant issues. I'm really sorry though, I know I kind of sobered up the party mood. Anywho, I was wondering if I'm to go in tomorrow?"

"Honey, I'm sorry for your little dramas but it's our anniversary. You're cutting into our special time and last time I checked, _Inkblot_ is closed for tonight...check in tomorrow. Thank you," it's Luz, Wesley's long-term girlfriend, and she just cut the line.

"Fucking bitch!" I murmur under my breath. Her and I haven't ever been on the best of terms. She's like a maggot that's crawled under my skin and never leaves. She's like a cancer that won't go into remission. Luz is a bitch, one that I have to see every single time I walk into the one place where my talent is worth something:_ Inkblot_.

Muttering obscenities, I open the fridge and pull out a Coke and ease my anger by observing the collage on said fridge. It's a colorful flurry of memories: goofy looking photos of the billion and one times Mackenzie and I were caught doing something stupid throughout the years, strips of the girl and her hubby, prints of Dom as a mere alien inside her womb, and professional shots of Micks, an infant Dom, and Phil with Lake Michigan in the background...dated '02. _You were busy moving in, remember?_

Popping open the can and slumping over the counter, I mull over the problems that just won't stop popping up, "Ninety-nine problems and bitches are most of them..." I laugh a grief filled laugh and hold my head in my hands, "_Empezando desde cero_, Marleene. _Tienes nada porque todo lo que un dia fue...se derrumbó_..."

"They say problems are only temporary..."

My hands jerk toppling over the can as I spin around to face to owner of that raspy voice, Phil, "Could you quit doing that? On one of those surprise pop-ups I'll end up on an emergency stretcher!"

"I'm sorry..." he kicks off the wall and snatches up a dishrag, "Coke, it's spilt. Let me..." the mossy-brown eyed man starts mopping the counter with the rag.

He's so close, like I can feel the warmth radiate off his body. It unnerves me. He's attractive, I'll give him that, but it unnerves me for reasons I can't explain. My body is tensed up, waiting for him to lash out, and my mind tells me he will but somewhere I know he won't.

"I can...I can wipe you - it...I can wipe it. I tipped it over."

He sends a funky stare my way and continues, "I'll do the honors, relax," he finishes and throws the rag over the sink and goes over to lean against the fridge, "You're doing a pretty shitty job at keeping up this 'I'm fine' facade. You went through something traumatic...you should cry or do something to let it out. Whatever 'it' is."

Leering at him, "Crying will get me nowhere. I'd bitch, moan, and whine but that won't do much, will it? After half a decade, I am left with nothing. I might as well be a dropout fresh outta college. Nothing is in my name. Problems are temporary because once one is resolved another rises."

Punk rubs his chin taking in the brick of truth that I've just thrown his way. He clears his throat a smirks, "What's life without a little drama?"

I scoff and chug whatever is left of my soda, "Better."

"Believe it or not, drama is what builds character and all that good shit," he turns around and peels off an aged photograph and points to the two subjects in it, "You remember them, yeah? Moms and Pops... if you do, you'd remember that ol' Daddy-O was a lousy ass drunk and Moms was a fiend," he puts the picture back, "Pops use to come home, on his good days, and find any excuse in the book to beat on Mikey and me. Sometimes we were lucky to be so exaggeratedly beat up that we'd be allowed to stay home from school. That was a daily problem," he closes his eyes, "Another problem, when Mom wouldn't make it home and we'd find her slumped on some corner, alley, or the neighbor's fence."

Personal. This is all too damn personal. We've only known each other for a short stretch of time. This is too much, it makes me cringe at the memories brought on. Micks would confide in me about how her dad acted or how she'd be lucky to even find her mom home.

"These problems only ever seem to vanish once Mike and I joined a small-time promotion. The LWF. We loved wrestling, never really trained but loved the sport. The pocket change we'd get gave us hopes that one day we'd save enough to get out of here..." he chuckles a bit, "The more successful we were, the guys and us, the more greedy Mike became. He was the reason for my departure from the promotion. He was the money man...he took it all," he bites his steel embedded lip, "Problems sprang up and once I was done with highschool, I upped and left. I haven't talked to Mike in years and don't plan to," he opens the fridge a pulls out a Coke, he scrunches up his face and shrugs, "I'll still be forever loyal to Pepsi. Anyway, since I didn't know anything other that wrestling...I entered the roadie lifestyle and began proper training as SDW. Met some cool guys. The picture hasn't been to make it big but be the best. I'm currently signed with ROH. Will I ever make it to the big league, WWE? Who knows, it'd be rad though," he keeps his gaze on me, "I'm not a spokesperson for 'Dreams Come True' and that bullshit, but I'd like to think drama and problems inspire people to better themselves."

Reflecting on his little speech, which he seems to be too good a giving, I manage a tiny smile. Aside from all this apprehensiveness, a minuscule smile for his troubles, "You're very charismatic, you know?"

"So they say," he says cheekily.

I roll my eyes, "You're very 'modest'. I'll take what you've said into consideration. Keep it in mind on my lowest of days."

He pops his white tee and I can't help but laugh, "All in a day's work..."

Covering my mouth, "Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"This," I reciprocate his past actions.

"Why? If you look cute doing it...shit, I do too!"

Trying to hold back my blush, "Eh..."

"Eh?" he pushes himself away from the fridge and closer to me.

"Yeah, 'eh'."

"Damn..." he clutches his heart, "my self-esteem..."

"Gee, I'm oh so sorry, pretty boy," _Really? You said that out loud, really?_

A hurt expression etched on his face makes me burst out laughing, "You're something of a bully, Miss Marleene. Complimenting people and then laughing in their face..." he says with this playful glint in his beautiful mossy-green eyes.

We're just inches away. With unbroken eye contact that gives me shivers and a hint of self consciousness. I'm all fucked up, not too mention my bulging black eye. His gaze is so aware, so confident, so hypnotizing. The man is good looking in his own right: in that intense yet worn way. For the life of me, I can't figure out if he's leaning down or I'm leaning up. His minty breath caressed my lips and my eyes close expecting anything and nothing at all...

"What's wrong with people? I wake up alone with a shit ton of blankets an - Oh.."

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_It was a long read, wasn't it? More interaction between the two. YAY! I think we're getting somewhere, my dears. Read on and support my cause, haha._

**Disclaimer: I own nobody who's name you recognize. This is just a work of creative fiction. **


	5. Breaking You In

Remember when SpongeBob figured out that Squidward likes crabbypatties? Remember that shit-eating grin that took over the little creature's face? Keep that in mind because Mackenzie's is the exact replica just in human form. She's even doing the whole giggling school girl thing.

Punk rapidly closes his eyes, "Before you get any ideas, it is not what it seems," when people say that line, it is what it fucking seems.

"Dunno what you mean. I'm not even here. I'm gonna go check on...yeah," she says stumbling over her words.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, agitating my cut up hand in the process, to collect myself, I inch away from a closed-eyed Punk. Flustered. I am completely flustered by all that happened...or didn't happen...or was going to happen, "I will save you the trip. You...you just relax," and with that I slip past the child-bearer. Halfway down the hallway, I overhear what seems to be the beginning of a sibling's quarrel, "Why are you looking at me like that, Philly?" I chuckle disdainfully and continue on my way until I meet the open door to Dom's room. I peek in before entering an spy the kid slipping in and out of sleep as he play with that game of his. "Come on, _papi_, time for you to catch some flying Zs," I announce blocking his view of the TV.

"But Auntie!"

"No if, buts, or ands...off to sleep you're going," I lift his almost weightless body off the ground and dump him on his race car styled bed, "You want me to do something special before you drift or should I just go 'cus you're big now?"

He taps his chin as if in deep thought, "Could you just sing to me until I fall asleep?" he springs off the bed and beneath his bed searching for something, "Sing and play the guitar, please!"

Two. I only know two songs on the guitar, other than the basic ones, by heart. I'm not multi-talented by any means, "Fine but you better fall asleep, kiddo," as tell the small child as I take his grandfather's broken-in guitar. I start tuning it as he slips under the covers and look behind me before actually strumming away.

Some time between my free-styling of "_Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star_" and merging "_Eso y Mas_", the twerp knocked out. Now I am really just playing for myself. I don't want to go out into the awkwardness that awaits me, should I go out into the living room. Sulking, I slide the instrument under the bed and place a soft kiss on my beloved's cheek. Saying a sentence of prayer, I head out the door and run into Micks's protruding belly. I gasp, holding myself as if I'd lose an organ if I didn't, "You could use that as a weapon...goddamn," I joke to which she does too.

The frail woman rubs her belly ever so lovingly, "It's usually to my disadvantage but I got five more months to convince it to join my side," she jokes, "I'm really sorry about the kitchen...I didn't know you guys had gotten over so fast."

Gotten over? Making a mock disgruntled face, "What're you insinuating, woman? Nothing was gonna happen. It's that pregnancy induced creativity you've acquired."

Giving me the "look", she let's the topic escape, "Well, whatever you say, babes. I'm off to get some more shut-eye; baby is getting the best of me," she digs into her bra and pulls out a single key, "Welcome home, babes. Yours to keep safe and sound."

The tiny little key that falls into my palm and I clench it tightly, "This means a lot, babes. Really. It does," tears prick my eyes. My life has been destroyed like the lost city of Pompeii, and sunk like Atlantis. This girl, struggling as she is, has let me into her home with open arms. The term "best friend", I don't use loosely.

Almond colored eyes moisten and upturned lips quiver slightly, "Stop it. My hormones are out of whack and you crying...stop," she chuckles, wiping away at her eyes, "You're my girl. You're family. Now go and make the guestroom yours. Its been an eventful set of twenty-four hours," she hugs me as tightly as she can and wobbles into her room.

Little ol' me spends a couple of seconds trying to pull myself together before making my way into the living room. Blondielocks is sprawled out on the couch enjoying some _Tom and Jerry_. The zoo that reclosed has let their animals out again. I hate awkward 'cus I am awkward. Internally, I'm grateful for Micks's interruption of the "moment" because for all I know my hero could have a girl waiting on his cute little butt and I've butted out of a relationship not even a day ago.

Bee-lining it to the kitchen as briskly yet composedly as possible, I avoid even a blink in Phil's direction. I assume all is good until I hear, "Are the kids asleep, yet?"

Shrinking inside my skin, "Uh...yeah. I put Dom down and Micks is on her way as well."

He hums and then switches positions on the couch, "The kitchen thing. I'm sorry about that. I got caught up...invaded your space."

I shrink even more, if that's possible, "Don't sw...sweat it."

Turning on my heel, "Not even a drop but you seem to be sweating out a fever," the smirk on his face can be heard in his voice.

Nearly losing my cool, "This is your sister's house. You're her brother. Last thing I want is for her is to assume...things."

"We're grown folks..." he states matter-of-factly.

Scratching my brow, I turn around to face his smug looking self, "Nothing happend."

"Only because little sister walked in," it's clear that he's amused by whatever he's trying to stir up, "You're free of that jerk. I could've kissed you and you would've enjoyed because I'm a 'pretty boy' according to you. You find me attractive, in other words."

My mouth floors. _Audacious bastard!_ Nothing but a flap of words zoom by me but nothing really coherent, "Sounds like you have an over-inflated ego, buddy."

"'Over-inflated ego'?" he cracks up, "Perhaps or maybe it's the fact that you don't want to admit it, beautiful," he suggests with a lopsided smirk.

For the last couple of grueling minutes, my face has been flushed red, "You're trying to fuck with me, aren't you?"

He simply nods and we burst out, me in relief, "I find it entertaining to see people skirm."

"Lovely. Gladly I could entertain you," I reply sarcastically.

Seconds pass and air grows into a split between awkward and comfortable silence. The day is old and tomorrow I'll be going to work. Problem is that I got no pajamas and my stuff is in Blondielocks's car, "Would it be too much to ask you for your car keys?"

Taking a look at the clock, Punks stands up, "Yes, it would. This is no time for a young woman to be out unaccompanied"

Nodding my head, I pad over to Micks's coat rack and grab a random oversized black sweater. Punk on the other hand has already swung open the door and stepped out, "It's bone chillingly cold, tough guy!"

He starts walking backwards, "Feel free to be my human furnace!"

Zipping up the sweater, "In that case, freeze!"

ΔΔΔΔ

It isn't the "Windy City" Chicago for nothing. Like everywhere else in the Midwest it is freezing balls outside. The closer to the lake you are, the colder it is. I am one for the fall but this year it's just exaggeratedly cold. Makes me regret ever needing my pajamas. "Phil..." I manage through chattering teeth, "We've been out here for half an hour, go inside!"

Truth is, his trunk won't budge for shit. We've been trying to crowbar it open and so far we only got one side. I am quite surprised that Macho Man isn't frozen on the ground with pneumonia. "

"I almost..." he kicks the trunk with all his might, "got this open," it pops open like Jack-in-the-box, "You're welcome!"

Walking up to him, "Thank you, now let's get this shit inside ASAP!" My luggage is dead weight - like carrying a boulder. A gust flies by making the trip back impossible, "Fuck you, fucking wind!" As soon as I finish that last syllable, my hand spazzes out making me lose my grip on the baggage. Everything flies out. Everything meaning, my panties. Of course, it _had_ to be the panties!

Sauntering over with a couple of intimates in hand, Punk says, "I think these belong to you!" How I wish I could slap the taste of joy right out of his mouth. As I lunge for my belongings, he pulls away.

Another try, he has them out of my reach, "_Dame mis putos calsones, pendejo_!"

"Such a colorful tongue..."

"Here's another set, fuck and you! Give me back my panties!" I lunge once more and I end up losing more than I'm winning._ Ouch, bruises..._

"Say 'please'."

_Okay, he wants games. Challenge accepted_. With all the seductiveness I can muster, I push myself on him. Doing the whole 'run a finger down your chest' thing, uttering, "Please?" His arms comes down like puddy and another around me. His irises dart between eyes and lips. Focused as I am, I barely feel the wind trying to seep into my skin or the car the abruptly screeches to a halt.

"I knew I'd find you like this!" _fuck!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Dun dun duuuuunnnn! Short, I know. I know this is all seeming slow but what's a story without some character building? Keep the faith!_


	6. Cry Me A River

_Two years ago..._

"Babe, this is my fourth fu...this is my fourth time calling you," covering the phone, "Pick up the damn phone!"

"Still not picking up, huh?"

My grip on the phone tightens. I've been at Mrs. Brook-Welsh's house for the past couple hours all because my dumbass boyfriend is nowhere to be found. For all I know, he could be in the middle of Bumblefuck in a ditch, "He's probably held up at the shop. Cars always needing some fixing..." I lie through my teeth but it's only to stop being badgered by Micks.

"Yeah 'held up'..." she mutters under her breath, "Babes, this is maybe the tenth time in three weeks that you're all uptight about his whereabouts. Tenth time that I have to deal with your crying while he's fucking around with some other floozy."

Honestly, I love honesty...except when it's hers. She drops the bomb without remorse, "Stop it," I moan.

"It's true! I love you, I really fucking do, but constantly having to deal with your one-sided love life gets on my nerves! Everybody tells you to open your eyes, see the 'light'...he's cheated how many times now?"

"Stop!" I shout, "Stop! You never liked him! You're...you're just hating on the fact that he sticks around all year long! You're jealous that unlike your man, my man is by my side three-six-five!"

_Dick move! _Low, it is a low-blow and I don't realize it until it's too late to take it back. Her face is contorted with anger and hurt. Sitting there stupidly as she picks herself off the couch, I try and try to gather the right words but to no avail.

"You know, I really do hope that it's mean just being 'jealous'," she goes over to the front door and flings it open, "But before anything, you just remember that he hasn't been there for you...ever. No, maybe for that amount of time before he snaked his way into your pants. Think about the times you've come crying to us, your friends, about him cheating or doing shit that breaks you!" she rakes her hand through her messy hair, "Get out of my house."

With my tail between my legs, I walk out of her house and drag myself home. The whole half hour walk home. By the time I stumble to my door, it's three in the morning and I'm so ready to give my pillow some well deserved head and the sheets some ass.

"Babe, you're home!" greets my boyfriend as soon as I open the door.  
>The boy is slumped over the couch, enjoying himself at my expense. He grins at me and I can tell by his demeanor that he's drunk as shit. Huffing an exhausted, frustrated breath, I crawl over to him and start taking off his greasy shoes.<p>

"Wha' were you doin' out...so late?"

"I didn't want to be alone..."

He sits up and clumsily caresses my face, "You're so, so, so cute. I'm so fuckin' lucky to have you, _amor_," _Lucky 'cus you're drunk. _His alcohol drenched breath blows around my face, "Miss ya' all day, all day..." he starts kissing my neck, sloppily. I try to pry him of but his wispy face tickles my neck and I giggle. He takes it as a green light and soon enough we're stumbling to the floor. _Skin is weak..._

Ten minutes, not even that, in the sack and he is a big mass of deadweight. Out like light. Thankfully not on top of me but still I have to push him off and that's when I see it. His reason for being so tardy. Hickies. My throat closes up and I will myself to not throw up from all the disgust. I shut my eyes and pretend like

I haven't just seen them. I love him.

ΔΔΔΔ

That was when I wanted his attention. When his attention and love was vital for me to keep on living. Today, now, I want nothing more than to evaporate into the thin, frosty air. I keep wishing for something miraculous to happen: say a tree toppling over the man, his body exploding into pink matter, the car to run him over...anything. Is that likely to happen? No. The only thing keeping me steady are Phil's arms wrapped around me.

"For fuck's sake..." mumbles the mossy-green eyed man into my hair. He can't observe the look of fear that is written all over my eyes and face. I'm scared shitless. Detaching his arms from around me, he turns around to face the pending wrath, "Ah, the man of the hour...live and in the flesh."

"The punk-bitch that stuck his nose in my business."

Punk laughs to the side with a full blown grin, "I beat you like a bitch once, a second time will be just as satisfying."

"You won't be so lucky but I'm not here to fight. I'm here for my girl."

Noah comes closer and every step I tremble even more. I hide behind Phil like a pussy. If he can feel it, he doesn't mention it, "I don't think so, chump."

"I don't give a fuck about what you think! Move the fuck out the way, bitch!"

They're face to face. Three inches apart and Phil somehow manages to tower over him. Nonetheless, I am ready to flee from the scene but my legs won't budge.

"And if I don't wanna? You gonna try to hit me, Muhammad Ali?" my savior steps up, closing the distance between them, delving deep into his eyes without fear, "Last time I witnessed your pleasure in beating on poor, defenseless women. I am a man. Come at me," he sneers.

An evil sounding cackle escapes my ex's mouth, "Look, son, move aside. I wanna talk to my little girlfriend. Let's be grown about this."

Blondielocks toys with his lip-ring before snickering. _Don't piss yourself, Marleene. _What's up with all this laughter, it's a serious situation, "Do you hear yourself? Is there something in your brain that makes you blurt stupidity? Do you justify laying a hand on a woman as 'being grown'? _Son_, you have much to learn," at the end of each sentence, he pushes Noah.

Breathing in a manner that makes his nose flare, Noah sets his jaw, "Get your hand off me."

"Or what?" smirks Phil.

Faster than the speed of light, shit went down - I didn't even have time to blink. These men are it like cat and dogs. My voice is lost in the wind; it's barely audible. How crazy we must seem being out here at midnight, almost in the middle of the street, in underwear littered wonderland, amidst high wind, with two men going at it, and a woman, beat-up and bruised, screaming her lungs raw.

Without second thought, I put myself between the brawling men, ready for anything. _The face is fucked up enough_, "Guys! Guy stop it!"

Immediately, Punks yield but Noah, he lands one on my cheek. _Figures..._ My face swings to the side from the force of the impact. I spit out some blood. Punk sees this and attempts to charge, but I hold him back, "Let's fucking go," I whisper to him, "Please."

He inhales and exhales as he darts from my pained facial expression to shooting daggers at Noah, "Okay," he begins leading me back to the house.

A hand pulls me back, roughly, by the shoulder. I gasp, "Baby, I am so fucking sorry. I didn't mean to!"

Peeling off Noah's hand, I step away from him, "Don't call me that! I am not your anything," I say scornfully. All I see is red. Pure hatred. I've never felt such hate and fear in my life, until now.

"Mami, it was a mistake. I was mad. I'm sorry. Forgive me!" he grabs my hand but I flinch away, "I fucked up, I know I did. I promise on my mom's life - don't you remember all the times we had? All we've gone through? Five years, amor, five long beautiful years together do-"

"Stop," I put a hand to halt whatever he's going to say next, "Don't try to use that on me. I told you it was over and you went ahead and did this to me," I point to my black-eye and everywhere else, "All those memories meant nothing to you. Leave me alone and never come back. You hear, stay the fuck away from me!"

Phil pulls me back to his side and Noah drops to his knees. _What the...?_, "Baby, please. I'm on my knees, please. I love you so much! You made me so fucking mad understand me! I'm sorry, I'll change - I'll be better! Baby..." he clutches my hand, "One more chance, _corazon_. Just one and I'll show you I can be a better man," he kisses my hand and Punk snorts behind me.

"You always say the same bullshit, get a new punch line! You can't be a better man because you never were one to begin with. Fuck yourself!" _Be strong. Don't let his words faze you. _

"It's not a 'punch line', it's the truth. _Tesoro_, I'm on my knees begging you to take me back," tears well up in those dark brown eyes of his. He's almost perfected his finesse in manipulation. _Too bad you're not buying it_, "I don't want to fuck anybody. I only want you. I'll give up _todo, todo_ just please..."

Behind me, Blondielocks is gagging, literally, to which the pleading man responds with a death glare.

Ridiculous as this seems, his declarations are pulling at my heart's strings. He's a manipulative guy and knows how to play me feelings to his drumbeat. Salty tears escape my ducts. Surveying the pain in his eyes, it all comes back to me. We're talking about half a decade of happiness, arguments, laughter, shouting, playing, fighting, passion, planning - he was the whole _enchilada_. The center of my universe. Can I really let all of that slip through my fingers because of a temper tantrum and a moment of anger? _This is where you forgive him..._

Twisting around to look at Phil, "Could you...um...leave us be?"

Shrugging, "Your wish is my command, beautiful. I'll be watching," he walks away reluctantly, mean-mugging Noah the entire way to the porch.

Soon as he's out of earshot, I direct my undivided attention to my ex,"Please stop embarrassing yourself, wipe your snot and get up," he stands up and I give him a moment to compose himself, "_No mentire porque siempre te amare_. _Siempre_. Aside from all that has gone done, I truly treasure the time we've spent together. Maybe it meant nothing to you but it was everything for me," I allow a moment for him to swallow what I've said and for the lump in my throat to disappear, "That said, I will never let myself crash like I did. You took me and turned me into your personal maid. Never again. I'd like think I deserve more that what you've given me," I point to my wounded eye, "It's over. I don't wish for any misfortunes to befall you but if they do...you deserve every bit," I walk over to a nearby bush and pick up something off of it. I can hear Phil's laughter in the background, "You can have this to remember what you've lost. _Te amo_, Noah, _pero esto es el final_. _Adios_," I drop the item at his feet and wheel around. Trying to conceal my tears, I walk over to my luggage and towards the door to Micks's residence. _Freedom..._

Halfway to my destination, my savior catches up to me with a triumphant grin plastered on his face, "Didn't think you had it in you..." he gazes at my grim expression and tilts my chin up, "Stand tall, don't cry for some jerk," he looks all around when he figures his motivational words aren't working. I guess comforting weeping women isn't his area of expertise, "You gonna be okay?"

The genuine concern in his eyes warms my heart, "I will be."

Shouting his lungs out, Noah threatens me, "It's not fucking over 'till I fucking say it is, you cunt bitch! Fucking _puta piruja_, I knew you was like that! I knew it! Watch yourself, eh! Watch yourself!" seconds later I hear a door slam close, tires screech, a car speed off, and then nothing but the cold wind dragging leaves off of trees and everywhere else. _So much for the sob story._

ΔΔΔΔ

Safely tucked away, inside the house, Phil and I pile on the blankets that Micks's had previously utilized. We're lucky we don't have frostbite but Phil is like a human popsicle. _Should've taken the sweater! _I busy myself with the new dilemma, the cop car that has just pulled up in the neighbors-across-the-street's driveway. All I can make out is the pointing in our direction and a bunch of hand movements. _Fucking Italianos..._

Hastily closing the blinds, I act normal. The cop is shuffling his ass to the house. Worst case scenario would be he give us a ticket for littering, as my undergarments are still strewn all over the lawn. But it's private property so...I'm at a loss for why he's coming over. _Fuck the 5-0! _

"He come back or something?" asks Punk still shivering.

Shaking my head, "We're about to have a visitor in one...two..." the doorbell rings, "Three."

Heading over to the door, I breathe deeply and open it revealing a decent-looking officer by the name of James, "Sorry for the disturbance, ma'am, but I've been called on account of a marital dispute and I dropped by to see what's up."

_A what? Marital? _Smiling ever so sweetly, "I've no idea about what you're talking about, Mr. Police Officer."

True to the stereotype, he takes off his sunglasses to give me a distasteful look. _Shades? It's one in the fucking morning_, "Could you explain those bruises and that eye then?"

Laughing breathily, "It...it's nothing, really. My boy...ex-boyfriend he just got carried away. No bi-"

"What's going on?" asks Phil coming to my side, to my dismay.  
>The policeman eyeballs, almost setting a target, Phil with the most disgusted leer ever, "'What's goin' on'? Boy, you done this to this young lady?"<p>

I facepalm in doing so irritating my battered eye. Punks laughs, "Look, copper, I know what this looks like but I di-"

"Save it, son. I been on the force for sixteen years, I done heard it all. How pathetic," the officer looks at me with pitiful eyes, "Sweetheart, I know it's hard to turn in someone you love so deeply but you can make a report. There's no need to prolong your suffering. Just say the word and I'll cuff this son of a bitch."

Phil opens his trap but I quickly slap a hand over his mouth, "No! No, no, no it's not like that...he...I...no-"

"Sweetheart, we're on your side. No need to protect this..." he points a finger at Punk, "scumbag. We've got laws that protect wo-"

"Scumbag?" says Punk audibly disgruntled, "Buddy, I haven't done jack-"

"Shut your damn mouth!"

"I have fucking rights, you prick, and I'm telling you that I haven't la-"

"And I'm telling you to shut your damn mouth, boy! I was talking to your girlfriend, punk."

The air is quite tense by now. Punk's flexing his muscles to calm himself but he's ready to sound off, "They don't call me 'Punk' for nothing..." he mumbles.

"What you say, boy?"

"I said-"

"He said that he has no reason to hit, as we don't really know each other. This is his sister's house and we're ju-"

"You, be quiet!" spit the frustrated cop.

Now it's my turn to blow the roof off this house, "No. You two shut the fuck up! I've had one bitch of a day and I'd motherfuckin' appreciate if you two idiots would leave me the fuck alone. No, I'd appreciate if you got your ass of this property and left it at that!" I shout back. _People don't got any respect these days._

At my outbreak, Punks breaks out in fits of laughter as the police officer clenches his defined jaw, "Look, missy, keep your voice down. You're speaking to a figure of autho-"

"And I sure don't give a da-" Phil covers my mouth with his hands and I retaliate by biting the shit out of it.

He groans but keeps his hold, "Look, Mr. Officer, let's just let this slide. My _girlfriend_, here, is just going through a funk, they call it PMS..." he grunts at the sharp pain I inflict on his rib with my elbow, "We had a discussion in which some garments ended up on the lawn. Perhaps the neighbors were worried, but all was and is fine. The bruises she owns, she owns them proudly for she's an aspiring...uh...boxer," he ends off with a cheeky grin.

The officer flashes us a hateful glare and straightens up, "I will let this go. I have a wife I wanna go home to. Refrain from causing any more ruckus. Good fucking night!" and with that, he takes him stompy leave as Phil waves him off.

Once out of sight, closes and locks the door and lets me go, "Your _girlfriend_? PMS? Really?" I poke the dude roughly in the chest, "Really?"

Stomping over to the armchair, pissed out of my mind, I plop my ass down and grab a blanket and throw it over myself, "Marleene, I just saved your ass from a potential night spent in jail!"

"Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck you. I'm snoozing. Turn off the lights and...fuck you."

The man kicks shit around, throwing a bitch fit, before shutting off the lights and turning on the the TV, "I farted on that blanket, good night."

Cracking an eye open, "You what?" In my repulsion, I throw a bitch fit of my own before calming down, "If it weren't fucking Alaska, I'd burn this damn blanket, you prick ass troll."

"Yeah, goodnight and good morning to you too, beautiful."

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Good, okay, bad? Leave a review...a PM...follow? Thank you for your reading! Don't stop now, keep going!_


	7. Unthinkable

"Beautiful…" something nudges my leg me, "Mar…leene…"

"Wha?" I mumble sleepily.

"Stop…squirmin' so much…ain't enough…room for two…on couch." _Huh?_

Opening an eye, all I see is the argent sun all up in my eyes. _It burns! _Letting my good eye adjust to the light, I stretch. It's pretty damn difficult considering I'm on this stuffy couch with hairy ass legs making my own itch. _Hairy legs? Couch? What?_

Forcing my eye open, I fall off the couch trying to get away from the owner of the hairy legs, "Phil!" I whisper loudly, as everybody else must be asleep. When that doesn't work, I crawl over to him and shake the living hell out of him, "Wake the hell up!"

"Wha…What? Who's dying?" he yells.

Due to his abrupt awaking, I end up banging myself into the coffee table. Scowling, "Nobody you little shit!"

He wipes his eyes, now fully alert, "Were you trying to kill me?"

Scoffing, "You're ass wasn't waking up! You woke me up, telling me that I needed to stop squirming! Which if not for your creepy, perverted desires, I would have been squirming all over the armchair."

The amused stare he gives me turns into laughter, "You really do know how to flatter yourself," he shakes his head and lays back down, "If not for me, you'd woken up with a stiff neck. Throughout my TMNT marathon, I noticed you'd gone into a weird ass position. Half on the chair and other half sprawled all over the floor. How you managed that, I don't know."

"Oh please…"

Craning his neck towards me, "I'm dead serious. You must've had a nightmare or something. Besides, if I was trying something on you…I sure as hell wouldn't try it while you're asleep; I believe in the art of seduction," He winks at me and I try my hardest not to think much of it, "I have the utmost respect for women. One carried me for a year after all," he pauses to think, "Actually, I don't know if having enjoyed those little sighs and moans you were making counts as respectful…so, forgive me," he smirks, a shit-eating fucking smirk.

My face says it all. It's painted with red and a whole lot of embarrassment and undeniable guilt. Truth is that I'd been having a nightmare so vivid, I couldn't tell it apart from reality or dreamland. It contained the happenings with Noah and ended off with me repaying Punk...in a very _pleasurable _way. _You whore! _But no way, in the six levels of hell, am I ever going to admit that. Never.

"Again, with the blushing, which is cute and all, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. We're all humans with needs, some more than others," he says failing to keep a straight face.

"I am not blushing, prick! I'm irate! You're trying to make me out as some kind of sex-craving floozy!"

"Never that, Mar, never that. Calm your tits; it is fine. It's was rather sexy, in my honest opinion," he winks at me once more as he stretches.

Now he really is chaffing up my sour side, "Where do you get off saying all of that? You don't know me to be all 'buddy-buddy' with me!" I struggle to get up but when I do, I toss the blanket over him, "For somebody who I've just reacquainted with, I feel like I know all that's worth getting to know about and that is that you're an antagonizing prick." and with that I pad off into the kitchen.

_Shit is so...ugh. _I muse as I pour myself a ready-to-serve margarita and add a pinch of tequila. It does wonders to my bitchy mood. Nothing beats out being heard as you're experiencing something such as a sexual fantasy. Being heard by the object of the fantasy outranks everything.

Alas, stopping my inner musing, I give the stove clock a quick look, 10:04. _Fuck me! _Having been mid-drink, I spit it out and dash out the kitchen and to the living room. Punk antagonizes me some more, but I pay him no mind. Snatching random articles of clothing and my makeup box, I fly into the bathroom.

ΔΔΔΔ

_God, how did I get this lucky?_

Adding to my collections of cuts and bruises, I am now a proud over of a busted lip. Plump like a motherfuckin'…I don't know but it screeches repulsiveness. _Damn the sperm that won the race. _On greener side of the fence, nothing – potentially my opening eye – and nothing. Lift up my shirt and they'll be an assortment of purple and yellow bruises, maybe scarring scratches.

_God made you curvy. You made yourself fat._

In Spanish we call love-handles, muffin-tops, and fat: _lonjas_. That's what I got going on. Not horrendously overstuffed but stuffed enough. I like to blame it on the alcohol, which eighty percent of it is, but it has to do with my uselessness in the kitchen. They say that boobs even out the fat: try having C-cups – big enough to see, barely enough to show off.

_And God brought you into the world free of flaws._

Travel down my sides and land on my right hip and you'll see that I am, quite literally, a branded woman. Not by a scorched steel rod but by the skin piercing tip of a tattoo gun. Being an artist of that kind it's natural to be on both ends of the gun. For the de-flowering of my skin, I had Wes mar me with 'Noah'. The kid had promised that he'd get my name done…he never did. To this date, it's the trashiest mistake I've ever made.

_Don't blame the mirror, blame your insecurities._

As a woman, it's normal to put yourself down every now and then. Some days I'll be lucky enough to feel a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Today, however, I want to smash every mirror I come across to bits. My reflection could be a new-age folkloric monster.

_You're taking advantage of the fact that you're "besties" with your boss!_

My just-had-sex looking hair I put up in a pony and fuck away the flyaways. My arms pull up my thick pair of leggings, pull on my autographed Cubs jersey, and throw on my trusty Babyphat jacket.

"Marleene, I have to pee…"

Sight annoyed, I open the door to find Punk leaning against the wall, "I'm really digging the jersey."

"Look, _pest_, I happen to be in a rush, can you do the potty dance or something?" tapping my chin, "Better yet, there's another potty room in this house!"

"That one's clogged. But since I'm here…mind telling me who had you all swooned?"

Applying all sorts of makeup to mask my state, I ignore him as best as I can. _The eyes make them pop! _Pulling out my Maybelline mascara, I begin to coat my lashes in the stuff. I have mystical blue eyes. Maybe they'll be something of a distraction.

"Who were you fantasizing about, huh?"

Accidentally smudging my fresh coat, I leer at Phil and his abhorrent need to find out, "As much as I'd love to tell ya' about it… I have a damn job to rush to. So excuse my rudeness but…fuck off!"

"Chill with the intensity, geesh. I save a woman and this is what I get?" I nearly lose all the cool I've got, "Where do you work, by the way?"

Exhaling, "_Inkblot_, it's a parlor…tattoo parlor."

"That totally isn't a shock, I mean look at you…all inked up and shit," he quips.

Finishing the last of my wing, I scoop up my belongings and throw them in the nearby hamper. One last look and I deem myself presentable enough. The only thing that stands in my way is Punk, his smirk, my need for shades, and transportation.

Wiping the perspiration that built up in the mix, I work up the nerve to ask the Brooks sibling for a charity ride, "I didn't hear the magic word…"

Groaning, "You're so…" blowing a flyaway from my face, "Please."

"Let's rock and roll then!"

ΔΔΔΔ

Midday in downtown Lockport is a ways from the hustle and bustle of the City. Rows and rows of local shops as well as mainstream one make up most of it. Compared to the shitty neighborhood I'm so used to, downtown is like walking down Sunset Blvd. Bums are a handful of well-known faces that stay in the confines of the local soup kitchen, gangbangers steer clear since the station is close by, and the streets aren't full of potholes but well-kept flora. Driving past many locations here tends to send a wave of nostalgia over me. _Memories…_

"Princess, we're here!" sing-songs Phil, popping my bubble in the process.

"Jesus…!" I lay a hand on my thumping chest, "Is this something you consider a hobby?" he stares at me quizzically, "You know, frightening people half to death?"

"Well…" he rubs his stubbly chin, "now that you mention it, yes."

Rolling my eyes, I hop out of the car, "It was kind of you, Tim Burton, thank you for the ride and the trip to the store," we had a last-minute detour to pick up some much need shades, "_Adios_!"

Soon as I start skipping away, he drags me back, "Not so fast!" I pull away and pretend like I'm not shocked. _Sudden movements, man, _"What if I'm in need of some new ink?" he opens his door and starts towards the door, "Weren't you in a hurry? C'mon, it's freezing balls!"

"Woah, woah…motherfuckin' woah! Hold your _caballos_, we don't do walk-ins," pasting on my most despaired face, "So sorry, maybe next time…"

"According to that sign, y'all don't do them…you _welcome _them," he states, grinning triumphantly.

_Stupid ass sign! _Muttering under my breath, I strut in with the big dope in tow. The doorbells chime and it's all eyes on me…and him. Wesley snakes from behind the "receptionist" desk and envelopes me in what feels like a bear hug, "Sis from anotha' miss!"

Wheezing, "Brother…from…another mother…"

He sets me down all dry-lunged and dandy, "Great to you that you're intact…" he gives me a onceover, lifts up the shades, and his features contort into a murderous glare, "Didn't think shit could be…" he shakes his head in denial, "Can't even…no, no. _Pinche puto. Piensa que se salvo_-"

"Hey, hey…" I clasp his sandpaper textured hand, "Bro, it's fine…I'm fine…" he keeps muttering blindly, "Wesley, I'm okay," that's what I try to pass off as, "_No te preocupes por alguien que no vale la pena_. Okay, let it go…for me?" I put my arms around him, whatever I can reach, and hold him tight.

As he starts coherently speaking, a wild girlfriend appears from out of nowhere, it seems, "If it isn't _Inkblot's _little zombie princess, back from the dead. I was starting to miss you."

Breaking away from Wesley, I scowl at her, "And it's the parlor's bitch, thought we didn't allow for pets in the workplace for the sake of safety precautions? Bitches carry flees," the little twit gasps as a round of sniggers fall upon her, "I'm back. Miracle, they call it."

Boss's hand makes audible contact with his forehead, "Would it kill you two to be civil for even a millisecond?"

"Hell yeah!" I respond without skipping a beat.

"I, for one, can't be civil towards _una arrastrada_!" she chucks a vase-full of water and acrylic pebbles at me, "All the makeup on earth couldn't cover your nasty little face up!"

Patrons in the perimeter whisper to their tattooists for an immediate halt to their art. Employees, my co-workers, follow with requests and stop all movement and look on. All know that something, anything, is gonna go down.

Wiping my water drenched face, smearing my makeup even more, I stand there stoically. I let Luz revel what she can. Wes instinctively steps between us. I turn to an entertained Punk as make as though I'm trudging off. In a moment's notice, I spin around and launch myself Superman-style at the cheery bitch and take her down, "I'll…fucking show…you…an…_arra_.._strada_!" I shout between blows. Left and right I let my fists rain on the wench while the men previously at our sides attempt to retract me from her and a crowd forms around us like we're a pair of brawling pits. Thing is, I'm stuck to her like glue. _Cute._

Managing to snake a toned arm around my waist, Punk pulls me away. I grab on to Luz's weave like it's a lifesaver, "This girl ain't worth smashing your face in…again. C'mon, let go," he whispers into my sensitive ear.

The sensitivity courses through my entire frame making me lessen my grip but not fully, "I don't care!"

He exhales, his warm breath tickling my ear, "You're giving these idiots a show. You're not some free act, are you?"

Another yank and she's free of me. _Thanks Wesley…_ I'm left with an overly sensitized body and a handful of horse hair. I calm down enough to be breathe, "Let go, its over. I'm satisfied."

"Ima take your word for it, okay?" he releases me and a roomful of boos clog my ears.

Noticing that Luz is up on her feet, a bit wobbly but still upright, ready to charge once more if not for her boyfriend's grip on her waist, I revel in my newfound freedom. Revel in it so much that I land a quick one on her bloody face.

"Luz!" squeal Wes, going to her aid. She's out cold. He looks up at me and roars, "Marleene Karime Soto, my office…now!"

Bowing at the dispersing crowd, I triumphantly step around the fallen bitch, "Your bitch needs a check-up!" I cackle and Phil pushes me forward, "Woof!"

ΔΔΔΔ

Few minutes later, Bossman barges in seeming a bit uptight; it's safe to say that he's "calm". The man paces about, ranting, as my green-eyed guest and I lounge. He should've anticipated this though. He knew the situation was hot. His widdle girlfriend got under my skin and tap-danced on my nerves - she needed an old school beating. Time passes by and he's still going on with his 'please-refrain-from-hitting-Luz' speech - an aura like it has been a millennium or something.

"I'm sorry, okay? Please wrap up your _wonderful_ lecture, Pops, 'cus I'd like to introduce you to the pest that saved me," bringing forth an oddly grinning Punk, "This is-"

"Punk, you bastard, the fuck you doing around this town?"

I gulp and pray to Jesus, Mary, and Joseph for peace inside these walls. The room is small and there aren't many places to hide, should shit go down, "Guys…please…"

"You asswad, shut up and come give Daddy a hug," says Phil walking over embrace Wes in a formal man-hug. _Am I being Punk'd? _

Clearing my throat theatrically, "Ahem…you two, you know each other?"

Giving me a look like he's just realized that I'm dead serious, Wes smiles, "_Pollita_, three years ain't a long time…"

"I know but how do you know him? I mean, I don't remember him…"

Again, Bossman laughs as though I'm being funny. Punk scratches his neck awkwardly, "Feeling's mutual, son."

Brows furrow together as Wes darts giving me and Phil a confused stare, "Y'all fucking around, right?" we shakes our head in unison, "Oh come on! Punk, you should remember! Stop playin'. You were hooked on the girl. Remember your senior year?" when Phil seems to be blank, "Okay, go back to the shows at Mokena. You'd mention to me and the boys that you dug one of your sis's girls!"

Squirming under the Brooks sibling's gaze, I pretend to be interested in whatever paper my eye catches, "That was you?" he asks me as if I know what he means.

"Um...?"

"Phil, we both, me and you, know that you're just playin'," says my best friend, punching Phil playfully on the shoulder, "Quit it, bro.,"

The work phone rings and the owner excuses himself for a moment. That leaves us alone with an aura of confusion and awkwardness. The man with beautiful moss-green eyes and unruly Jesus, for lack of better description, leans against Wes's handcrafted cherry wood desk with a pensive gaze on his face, almost as if trying to search for a trace of truth in Wes's words; for traces of me.

On the flip-side, I busy myself with sorting the cluster of paper on Bossman's desk. Wes isn't one for lies, I've know him since the beginning of time - my time - to know. It just irks me that I don't recall anything related to Mr. Phil Brooks. _It's the teenage-era of drugs..._ Could be the fuck that during my younger years, I inhaled anything that numbed out the body and brain. Drugs have a way with fucking up the brain. I barely remember my childhood and when people start retelling of their crazy experiences with me...it's like I was blacked out the whole time. _Alzheimer's? _

The creak of the door brushes of the aura as Bossman come in breaking the silence, "Sorry, you know how business is," he hangs up the phone, "Ey, Punk, how 'bout Marleene here tats you up…on the house? Sound like a decent 'Welcome Back' gift, from yours truly?"

"Like dying…twice!" replies Punk enthusiastically, "I've been having an idea on my mind for the longest, but I don't have an outline."

"I got you, bro. Mar happens to be our resident 'MVP'," Wes put a heavy arm around me, "She snaps. Just lay your idea on her and she'll draw it out. Right, 'chacha?"

Nodding my head eagerly, "Anything for you, Bossman. Long as it erases what occurred with that bi-" noticing the return of her angry lines, "In short words, it'll be a pleasure. Let's get goin', Phil…"

Before heading out the door, Punk and Wes "man-brace" once more. I don't fail to catch Wes's wiggly brows and Punk's death-glare. They share hushed words, which I don't catch onto. I roll my eyes and drag the visitor out the door.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _Keep the faith strong, ma' brotha's and sista's! A thank's to your time beforehand! _


	8. Smile

Stepping out of the office, I am spot my closest co-workers posted up by my station. Once I'm in their view, they start clapping. Tears emerge, waiting for the most inappropriate time to make an appearance. _Inkblot _is my home away from home and these people are my family, cliché as it sounds.

I hear a couple of cat-calls and woof whistles and I walk over_, _dragging a silent Phil with, "Stop it, you guys! I'm blushing…" laughter erupts from the tiny group.

"Ooh child! You really put that lil' girl in her place! Woo…come here an' gimme a hug, suga'" sings Joanne. She's like the mother of the group since she's a millennium of years ahead of us twenty-somethings. Her comical ways as well as her maternal instincts makes us all love our beautiful black woman.

"What? Why does she get a hug first? I thought I was your favorite," that's our Boston blonde, Bree. Your typical bubbly blonde - only a bit more intelligent – that we keep around for eye candy and to keep the place light as well as multicultural – she's the only white girl.

"Come over if you want some of this, white girl," I beckon with a sway of my hips. _They bring the best out of you._

She practically flies into me, "Aren't you a cocky bitch?"

"One that has bruises…" I grumble.

The Boston blonde gasps, "I'm so sorry. I'll give you a kiss to make it better!" she does just that.

Pay no mind, anybody who works here or is a frequent knows that girl-on-girl action means nothing, but boy, I can see that Phil's jaw just hit the floor and mossy eyes popped out their sockets.

"Who's tall, toned, and smexy over there?" whispers Bree eyeing Phil like a piece of marinated meat; I can't help but feel a tinge of jealousy, a tinge.

"Name's Phil. He's Mackenzie's, you know her, brother. Off-limits, you hear?" I reply as quietly as can be.

She whines, "Why? He got the syph or something?" I shake my head. She pulls away from me to observe my eyes. Her eyelids half-close and she gets this knowing-smile, "He's with you, isn't he? You fucking whore, you always get the sexiest ones!" _any louder, Bubbles?_ The line earns me a couple more giggles, Phil's hushed chuckle in the mix.

Detaching myself from the girl, "Not even like that…" still they giggle, "Fuck me."

"Aw, don't get mad, Curlyfries," Carlos walks over and scoops me up. He's the newest member of our crew. Straight out of L.A. Funny how when he was a real newbie, everybody put up a front against him – he had an affiliation to the Surenos. Here we don't take to gang members as they are what are wrong with society. We warmed up to him after hearing of his road to redemption, "Damn, _chica_, where did those damn bumps come from?" he questions.

"Doesn't matter…"

He glares at me, "That petty ass boyfriend, wasn't it?" I don't respond, "There ain't gonna be a next time, eh," he squeezes me and walks back to the group.

"Welcome back!" Last but not least is Jee. He's a little Asian fella, real laidback as opposed to the stereotype. He deals pot which comes in handy when you fiend, "I got you on a free blunt, girl, just give me a shout!" he says retreating to his own station where a female awaits him.

Rest of the crew is absent from the welcoming committee: working on somebody, having themselves a merry little break, or enjoying their day of leisure. Time is ticking though so I wrap up the mini-party, "Thanks, guys. It was only a twenty-four hour vacation but thanks," I laugh to myself, "Let's get this show on the road and get back to work 'cus I got this guy to work on," I take hold of Phil's hand and an assortment of whistles resume. _So lucky I love you guys!_

The crew disassembles and take off to their respective stations and Bree to the "receptionist" desk to file away at her manicured nails as I clean off my area which we nicknamed "King's Throne…or in my case, "Queen's Throne". It's the station designated for employee of the month…I've been it for quite a while. I'm on display for the world to see – display window – which is pretty neat if I weren't so preoccupied about that.

Ready with pen and paper, I swirl around to see Phil observing the station, mostly the cheesy, plush, maroon tattooing chair, "Hey, you gonna stand there and look pretty or what?" _you wouldn't mind, Marleene_. Inwardly kick myself and pull up a chair for Punk. _You need rebound sex!_

"Patience is a virtue, sweetheart," he replies, taking his sweet ass time to plop himself down, "They, your co-workers, are a lively bunch."

"They keep me sane…" I reply with a smile

He nods, "What's with the embellishments in this area?"

"Reserved for showing off the employee of the month…"

He gives off the vibe that he's thoroughly surprised, "Never would've guessed, much less believed it," he bluntly states. The man doesn't even second guess himself just says it.

In all honesty, I don't know whether I should feel offended or proud of the fact, "Why's that? You thought I was rookie-ing it out while mooching off my..Noah?"

The Jesus-haired man leans back into his chair, "Why lie, yes. Pretty faces such as yours don't take up jobs like this unless their playing secretary or something." _Pretty faces like me?_, "Pretty face don't really take up jobs…they just look pretty and do pretty things and get a wad of cash for it."

Wide-eyed with incredibility, I stare Phil down as if he's just murdered my father. _Did he just suggest that you should be a hussy?_, "Are you trying to get a reaction out of me like yesterday?"

"Nope," he pops the 'p'.

Blown away that's what I am, "Look, Phi-"

"Call me Punk. I save 'Phil' for individuals I don't like."

_He likes you yet insults you? _Clearing my throat, "_Punk_ you don't know anything about me other than my name and not even my last name. 'Pretty faces' take up those 'jobs' because they know they are and they can get away with it. I, on the other hand, am the opposite. This is what I do and this is what I excel in so kick back, relax, and witness why it is that I am employee of the month."

Intrigued, "Why's that? Why are you the shining star?"

"Because whether it's a string of stars near some chick's vagina or a detailed geisha on some guy's biceps, I put my heart and soul into it. Make it as though every single tattoo is thrown at me is going to be the last God ever lets me create. I am not a genius and sure as hell ain't good for much else but this…art it's all I have to show for myself. That's why."

Dunno if I've stunned the lad but the intensity of his eyes unnerve me. It's like he's seen a paranormal being, "Kudos to you, beautiful, kudos," he smiles a real smile, "I'll take you up on an offer. Test out that passion you got to see if you aren't all talk," another signature smirk, I'll be damned if they aren't trademarked.

"Fuck it. What you got for me, _pretty boy_?" Pretty boy scoots his chair halfway around to me, and leans in super close, popping my personal-space bubble, near my ear. _Sensitive area, I repeat, sensitive area!_, "Fuck are you doing, my co-workers are staring!" I whisper loudly.

Sultry, breathy laughter erupts from the man's thin lips, which are still next to my ear. This is raising the hairs on the back of my neck, rolling shivers down my spine,and turning my lower abdomen to mush, "They enjoying the view?" I pinch him, "Ow, okay, okay relax. All jokes aside, what I'm about to ask of you is serious so don't make a joke of it."

"Everything that has come out of your mouth paints you out to be someone who doesn't give a fuck…guess I was wrong," I tease.

He wags a finger, "You weren't. Something about you makes me want to keep up my manly front…"

Laughing nervously, "Uh…me?"

"Yeah, you."

Scratching my suddenly itchy hand, "Why?

"You're an attractive woman, Marleene, hence my new nickname for you. I find you attractive, in a non-creepy way. Plus, you're gonna choke on you spit once I tell you what I want done…" he chuckles as a way block the awkwardness of his confession.

"Oh…" I find a way to not be weird but fail to. I am not an expert on how to deal with upfront compliments…attractive men make it harder on the brain, "um…I am so very sorry, I don't handle compliments very well especially in the state I'm in. All be-"

"Take it and let's move on, sweetheart, we got a ways to go," he interrupts and I am quite thankful.

"Okay…well, thank you, Phi…er, Punk," I shoot him a cheeky smile to which he shoots back a lemon face. We burst in short-lived giggles.

"Back to business, I want a filled-in outline of Minnie Mouse's head with her pink bow unraveling into a name. I want it done on my back, preferably near the right shoulder," he says in a hushed tone with his focused on anything but my struggling face.

"One question, free of judgment, why? Is it a dare or…?" for the life of me, the goofy grin on my face I can't seem to get rid of!

Olive orbs open to reflect my smile, "My mom had the same tattoo on her right breast, awkward I know, but I just wanted to…ah, I dunno…I guess I wanted to honor the woman, you know? Wherever I travel, I'll have a part of her. She died the same way she lived: downing drinks and mixing drugs. Because of her, I am the man I am today – Straight Edge: free of drugs, free of alcohol," he runs a hand through his unkempt hair, "I…I miss the woman more than I really should…" his eyes wander off out the window and up into the cloudy sky. I manage to catch an un-obscured tear. _Hit a soft spot, damn…_

Not knowing what to say because there isn't much to say to soothe the pain of a lost parent, I rub his knee, "I think I can make that happen, pretty boy. Don't gotta be embarrassed."

Wiping his face and facing me, "Smart, using my own words against me…" a soft laugh.

Grinning, " I know! You want me to sketch it or freehand it?"

"Freehand? Damn, that's mad talent. Not many artists can boast about having that but I'd rather you sketch it."

Gasping dramatically, "My…I am quite offended that you don't trust in my mad skills!"

He rolls his eyes, "You're a dork."

"Fuck you. Feel free to chill, just don't kill anybody while I'm busy sketching."

"Damnit!"

ΔΔΔΔ

Blowing away the rest of the eraser markings, I regard my sketch as a finished work of art; simplistic but on spot. Now, to locate Punk which is going to be easy-peasy lemon squeezy because he's within eye-view looking at the parlor's Wall of Shame. _He's looking at what? _Rocketing out of my seat, I scramble in a normal manner to his side. The wall contains pictures of everybody doing something worth taking a shot of. Many are shots that family members have personally donated to Wes – mine are quite unfond snapshots of me as a toddler. All photocopied from albums my old man let Wes get his hands on. Joanne and Bree have gone out of their way to show Punk around the wall, specifically my shots.

As calmly as my nerves will allow, I open my trap, "Hey-ey guys, watcha' doin'?"

"Nun'we just giving our honored guest a tour of the Wall and showing him your adorable baby pictures," replies Joanne, all smiley about it.

Half-shrieking, "Why?" they give me a look and I adjust my tone, "I mean, I don't think he cares. Do you, Punk?"

"Oh come on, Mar-" starts Bree.

I motion for her to zip it, "I'm done with your sketch, Punk. Let's go look it over."

"But you were such an adorable baby. With that afro you sported and all. Am I a pervert for having seen you naked?" all three of us women gasp and he troll smirks, "In that picture of you rub-a-dub dubbing? Gosh, you women know how to give sentences new meaning." _Pinche chistosito, hijo de la gran…_

Frowning and crossing my arms, I death glare all of these individuals – especially Joanne and Bree. They seem to get the hint that I'm pretty pissed up the ass, "Uh, honey, you wanna join us for lunch? We 'bout to hit up the ca-"

"No."

"How about you, Philly?" _Philly?_ Inquires the ravenous blonde fluttering her falsies all flirty about it. I'm not jealous, annoyed to an extent but never jealous, "It'll be fun! The food's great, we can get to know each other," she continues, uttering the last bit seductively. _So much for 'off-limits'…_

Phil grins cheekily, "As much as I'd love to, I am afraid I can't. You see, Bree, last time I didn't take up your offer because I simply wasn't in the mood…this time, I've got myself a lovely girl waiting on me."

Scoffing, the Boston native flips her extension-filled hair, "Whatever! I'll see you later Mar," and she stomps out the door.

"Isn't she the dramatic one…" he turns to shake Joanne's hand, "It was a pleasure seeing you, might I say, you don't age at all."

Joanne laughs, "Always the charmer. Well, Phillip, don't let three years pass you by before we hear of you again," and she's out the door too.

Slugging Phil on the arm, "The fuck? What's with you and physical violence?"

"That one was for being an ass to my girl and this…" another slug, "for wandering off and seeing my stupid baby pictures."

"Someone's feisty…"

"A tad. C'mon, I ain't got all day for your tat."

"All right, let's see what you're all about," says Phil walking over to my station.

I hand him the paper where I've drawn his, with some luck, future tattoo, "Am I good or am I good?"

Since the moment I met this character named Phil who goes by the alias, Punk, he'd never put on a full smile for me; always his collection of smirks and grins. Slowly creeping onto his face and then making an appearance is a full fletch smile, complete with teeth and all. It takes years off his face and shows off his Crow's feet. His eyes glisten and shine, they just need the 'ding'.

"It's simple, I know, but flashy shit would comp-"

"It's perfect," he traces the pen lines of the sketched Minnie, "How'd you know my mom's nickname was 'Twiggy'?"

Scratching my temple, "Long story…"

"I got nothing but time and space…"

Getting comfortable, "Okay, well here it goes – I'm not much of a storyteller, you were warned."

ΔΔΔΔ

_Eight years ago…_

"Oh my god, I can't…I cannot believe John just kissed you!" screeched Micks.

"Shut up, Wonderbread, we're almost near your crib but…" I let out a shrilly yell, "He, the object of my desire, kissed me!" my excitement couldn't be withheld if I tried.

"How was it? Was he any good?" Micks interrogates.

Giving her a look, "How the hell am I suppose to know? He's my first, ever!" I chuckle.

"Oh yeah…I'm slow sometimes."

Laying a hand on her shoulder, "Most of the time, sweetie," she gasps, "But I wouldn't have it any other way, babes."

"I hope not, bitch."

Laughing, "Shut it before I kick your flat ass."

She snaps her fingers, "Oh. Hell. No!" we star play fighting as we round the corner to her house.

"Girl, God damnit, girls! Stop talking…so damn loud! I have a fucking…hangover," slurs a woman. We look and see a barely covered-up Mrs. Brooks, Micks's mom.

"Mom…" mutters my best friend, abashed at the state of her mother, "Uh…Mar, you think you can help drag my mom home?"

Sure as hell, I go over and put an arm around my shoulder and lift up the woman. It's frightening how not heavy she is. Almost feather like. We stumble another block to the Brooks's residence.

"Baby, I…I don' wanna…go in…" whines the sobering woman, "Don't wan'…Punkers…an' Mike to see me…see me like…this."

"Mom, you're embarrassing me; you need to get your butt inside!"

"Look girl, I am Twiggy! Most importantly, your mother…ain't nobody…tellin' me wha' to fuckin' do! 'Specially you!"

The girl facepalms, "Sorry for this, Mar."

"It's cool," we carefully set Twiggy down on one of the lawn chairs on the porch, "So, Mrs. Brooks, can I call you 'Twiggy'?" I ask, hoping to lighten the air between mother and daughter.

"Yee, go 'head!" she takes a good look at us, "My, how you girls done grown…so beautiful…so beautiful," touches our cheeks lazily and lays down, "How's life treatin' ya'? Boy talk?"

Smiling like an idiot, "Well, there's this boy…"

Twiggy smiles almost dreamily, "Always is…always. How 'bout you, honeybunches? Don't be…scurred now. Consider me one of the girls!" she sits up, a little too fast for her liking, "Mother of Jesus!" she holds her head, "Girlies, if there's…ever somethin'…you pick up from Twiggy it's…don't ever mix unknown drinks…leads to bad decisions."

Mick and I chortles at the fact that a grow woman has just advised two eighth grade twerps not to mix their drinks.

ΔΔΔΔ

"By far one of dear old Twiggy's best days – she didn't seem to ever have enough with us as one of the girls. We'd talked 'till she passed out," the corners of my lips upturn at the fond memory, "She was a funny woman…"

My sight travels to Punk who currently sits with his elbows on his knees and hands tucked under his chin on the floor. He looks worn out almost like he's on the verge of shedding tears. It yanks at my heart's stings that my story has affected him so.

"She was a nice woman…she really cared about you guys. The story says so." _And you better hope you aren't saying just to say! _

He blinks, "Yeah, I guess she did…" he gets up off the floor and walks over to my pimp-a-fied tattooing chair, "Mention any of this and you'll be hanging on a post…by the underwear," he warns sending an evil smirk my way. _Bye, sentimental Punk!_

"Oh yeah, so scared. Trembling in fear of your wrath…" I yawn, "Ready for some ink, big boy?"

"Born ready, sugar."

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_I feel like I am going slow with this story, ugh. Sorry, guys. I'm trying to take this places - unknown places- so please stick with me. Follow, PM, review...whatever! Much love._


	9. Feeling Good

"Alright, tough guy, make yourself comfortable while I get this shit ready," making sure everything is sanitized and placing in a new needle, I turn around, "_Jesucristo_!" I exhale.

Rookie has been long gone and over with. I've had my fair share of bare bodies in my tattooing career. Every now and then there have been mind-numbingly, drool-over-yourself looking bodies. But something about this grungy-looking man has set the bar. Sure, the guy isn't buffed out or working with washboard stomach muscles but he has one hell of a cute butt, one that's on display as he's laid on my pimped out chair.

"Maleene, woo-hoo? Marleene…woman…Beautiful!" shouts the man, loud enough to pull everybody's attention – including mine.

"Wha…what?" I look about at the confused and amused faces, "Back to work, all of you!" While some linger for a moment to send me an array of winks and smirks, all of them turn back to their previous activities, "You have to be so damn loud?"

"Pft, yeah! Your ass looked like you saw a ghost or something…" _no ghosts, trust me. _

Pretending to be annoyed, "How cute of you…"

"I try."

"Effort's what counts… Are you comfortable so I can get started?"

"As can be. Try not to screw up though, will ya?" he turns around to give me a cheeky grin.

"Alright you cheeky bastard, I have a tattooing gun in my hand. I am armed and equipped. Keep on with those little quips and I'll use it against you," he makes a zipping and throwing away the key gesture causing a snigger out of me. "That's what I thought."

Powering on the gun, I remember the paper that I didn't stencil out. _Oh well, fuck it! _I gawk at the man's butt once more and begin the session. Punk groans a bit at the ripping of his skin but soon enough relaxes into it.

"You've met the co-workers before?" I ask trying to make small talk.

"Only Blondie and Joanne. Wesley and I were chilling in that upstairs room after he closed up the place. They were cleaning up and well yeah…"

"She hit on you?" I laugh, "You just tell her that you have a girl 'cus you ran out of excuses?"

"Eh, not quite..."

_Not quite? What?_, "Care to elaborate?"

"I've got a girl waiting on me. Well it's mo- Holy fuck!"

I accidently force the gun to much, "Sorry, sorry!" _You've been all over a taken dude?_

"It's fine," he murmurs exasperatedly.

"Really, I am sorry," clearing my throat, "This girl, she any cute?"

"Who? Maria? Yeah she's pretty cute. You watch RAW…she was on their Diva's Search Contest."

_Great, a motherfuckin' Di – wait I don't care! _Wowing, "I do, actually, and that's quite an accolade. She must be a knockout. You meet her at a meet and greet or something?"

He scoffs, "You saying that I can't score someone like her?"

"You're putting words in my mouth, honey. I just asked where y'all met!"

"Interrogating me much?"

Trying to keep from rolling my eyes 'cus after so many rolls, they'll probably stay that way, "No, asswipe, I'm being friendly and trying to hold a decent conversation with you."

"Yeah, right…" he says unconvinced, "I met her during our time in ROH."

"She wrestles? What? That's pretty bad ass."

He mumbles something incoherent before responding, "More like does those pillow-fight things and interviews…she's still training."

_Oh…Maria the bubbly ass, honey blonde! Sex on legs…_, "Should've brought her 'round! Micks, her, and I could've gotten our nails done, hair done…everything done," _ha…ha…ha, yeah right!_

"It would've been a rare occasion; she barely has time for me nowadays since she's on the road often. Though, I wouldn't have bothered. She wouldn't like seeing me around you much," he laughs, "Besides, I dropped by unexpectedly, remember? The little sister always whines about my not coming home enough."

"Oh, she's the jealous type? And of course you just had to come through, for her sake." I say sarcastically.

"Not really. She's more of a time bomb. And I just had to like duh!"

I snicker at his response, "Stop, goofy ass."

"Stop, goofy ass," he mimics.

"May I remind you that I am still the one with the gun, I'd be careful."

"Shit, almost forgot," he replies sarcastically.

"You mentioned about being in WWE's developmental territory OVW? I've some names have come out of there."

"Down in Ohio, sweetheart."

Furrowing my brows, "That's at most half a day's drive…"

"You forget that as wrestlers we have to work out on and put on shows. Not as easy as it seems."

Minnie's head is now fully done, not to start on her unraveling bow, "Oh…do you know of Elle's whereabouts? Mackenzie has been so sucked up to be even hit up her line and I haven't seen her since her wedding…two summers ago."

Under my steadying hand, Phil's muscles tense which leads me to believe that the answer will not be pleasant, "Elle…my big sister, Ellie…Elle," he sighs, "She's been committed, well she committed herself, to a psychiatric hospital."

I lift the needle from the green eyed man's body and stand motionless…breathless. My senses come back and I sit back down feeling lightheaded, "Wha…why?" I croak.

"I guess she just broke. She'd had a couple miscarriages and I believe her husband couldn't deal with that anymore…he left. That probably fucked with her psyche as well as childhood traumas," he responds, shallowly breathing.

"Punk, hey, calm done. Calm yourself because I can't continue if you're like this," Who can blame the dude? Not me or anybody who grew up where we did; the place wasn't an ideal place to raise kids. Our side of Lockport was pretty secluded from the rest. Nobody moved there until they were all but dead. We lived amongst lowlifes and bottom-feeders of society.

"I know," he breathes out, "Shit's just so grimy. Her situation, it kills me. She's been there for close to a year and her nurses told me she was making a breakthrough. I go to see her and she cowers away from. She called me 'Dad' with this look of outright fear," he whispers, "I know for a fact she wasn't molested, thank God, but she went through tough shit."

I put a hand on his tense shoulder, "I feel you. Fannie, 'member her? She committed suicide. She…um…ended it all. People had made light of the fact that she was raped by my son of a bitch uncle, Luis," simply retelling the tale makes my heart bleed out and veins grow cold. Fannie was my eldest sister, we hadn't ever been close, but she was 'Mom' to both Caro and me. It's a cruel world.

"Fanny? She was perhaps the most humble, courteous, amiable girl I'd ever met. She tutored me once a upon a time. She was bright as light and sharp as a knife," he sighs, "My condolences, jokes aside, I am truly sorry."

Copping up a sincere smile, "Like you said yesterday, things…they will get better," I remove my hand from his shoulder and move on to change this depressing subject, "Your tattoo is lookin' pretty damn good. I am almost done."

"Really?"

"Only need to unravel the bow and all will be done."

In a matter of minutes I'm done touching up the last of the details I put on ol' Minnie's bow. Only things left is wiping of excess blood and beginning the usual procedure of wrapping. Now that all's done, I pick up my hand mirror and tilt it so Punk can get a clean glance, "How did I do, pretty boy?"

"Hate to admit bit that's a fine piece of work there, Ms. Marleene, I stand corrected."

"And that's why I'm this parlor's queen."

"Calm down, Ms. Arrogance!" he winces as he slides out of the chair, "This shit is gonna be sore for a while, isn't it?" I nod, "Figures. How 'bout I treat you to some fast food?"

I smile at his invitation, internally jumping about but, "I can't, got loads of inking 'head of me, Punk."

He shoots me puppy-dog eyes and I realize that he's where Dom inherited them from, "Fuck work, just for today. I don't know if I'll be around for a next time!"

"I'll make you a deal, since you can't go on without repaying me. You talk to the head honcho and if he's down with letting me off the hook, I'll take you up on the offer."

The man's already heading to Wes's office before I can get a chance to finish. I lounge atop one of my counters enjoying the view.

"_Te gusta el_ white boy, _verdad_?"

"Jesus Christ!" I exclaim, second's away from toppling off the counter, "Carlos, you fuck face!" I punch his shoulder.

"Hey, hey not my fault you were so busy droolin' over his ass," he titters.

"Psh, no…" he eyes me unconvinced, "That obvious?"

"Considering that I have a sixth sense, yes," I groan, "Don't worry, he's diggin' ya'."

Shaking my head, "I barely know the guys. It's more like instant attraction or some shit. I don't want to be labeled 'slut'. I've just scrambled away from one guy and onto another that's taken…?"

The former gangbanger walks over to sit next to me, "Look, _mami_, you chicks over-think _cada pinche cosa_…live a little! You're sexy and now single…embrace it with the motto 'Fuck it'".

"Says our resident Casanova. The man's taken and he lives outta state…"

Carlos brushes his shoulders, "What can I say? I worship women just not for a long time. As for your little dilemma, that's a bumma'! I gotta run though, clientele alert!" meaning a curvy woman who's just wandered in. _Of course._

"Soto!" I turn around to see Wesley making his way over with a certain tattooed Jesus.

"Yeah, Bossman?"

"I'm letting you off early…" a spark of glee overcomes me but I lay it off, "As for you, Punk, don't let it be three years 'fore I hear from your usually-grumpy ass, alright."

Punk pulls my boss into a hug, "Fine, since I know how much you'll miss Daddy."

"Shut the fuck up before I decide to go Rocky Balboa on your ass," they both share a laugh and Wes pats Punk's back, "For real though, hit a guy up so we can kick it like the old days."

Phil nods, "Next time, I'll drag Colt when we have some extra play time!"

"You said it," Wes lets go, "Okay, bro, take care of yourself."

"Will do, same goes for you 'cus you getting rusty," Wes frowns and Punk grins cheekily before running over to me and dragging me into a run as well, "Let's go have an adventure!"

ΔΔΔΔ

Purple-ish orange streaks have now taken over the sky announcing that the sun has tired out and is waiting for the moon to take it's place. The wind has also picked up a bit making the fallen leaves dance around.

It has been one of the best days I've had in a while…a long while. Chilling with the hazel-eyed man wasn't at all what I'd expected. He actually knew how to let loose and just horse around. His sarcastic sense of humor made it difficult to swallow my food without choking and his theatrics over his spilt Pepsi – the one I accidentally spilled - were hilarious. Not to forget the ruckus we caused all over downtown. Everything gave me a sense of familiarity; like we weren't acquaintances but old buddies reliving the day's passed. It was a pretty swell day.

Bolting out of the Punk's rental, I haul ass to try and get to Micks's house before being captured by him but fail to do so, "Punk!" I shriek, "Put me down!" I giggle like a schoolgirl, "Phil!"

"Payback's a bitch!" he states, "I told you I'd avenge my fallen Pepsi!" with that, he dumps me into a pile of autumn colored leaves.

Mouth gaping, "You fucking bastard, this shit's gonna be stuck in my hair for days!" I slowly elevate of the ground and charge at Phil's retreating body and bam!, "Look out!" two bodies collide and at the force tumble down

"Ah, shit!" groans Punk as I land on top of him, his body succeeds in softening my fall, "Mar…you're in for it when I get the strength to get up," he threatens between his teeth.

"Yeah? When will that be? Five years from now?" I chortle.

In a split second, the man rolls us over and he now has the upper-hand, "More like a five seconds," he breathes, "Who you calling an old man, kid?" with that he starts tickling my sides. Laughter and squeals escape from my mouth, "Revenge is sweet."

"Sss…stop, Punk!" no such luck, his fingers just keep swiveling around making me thrash around like a possessed bitch.

In all the commotion, we didn't hear Mackenzie come out her house until she gasped loudly, "What the hell? Marleene…Phillip Jack Brooks, what in the…? Take that nastiness somewhere else!" _Dirty-minded girl…_

Simultaneously, Punk and I stop rolling around and jump up. I can't help by hide my face while Punk faces up his sister, cherry-faced and all, "Sis don't get your panties in a bunch, it's not what it seems!" calls out Punk as he drags me to the front door.

As we pass her, "I'm guess you guys got to _know _each other real well, huh?"

"Oh little horny sister…you offend me with all these assumptions. You, of all people, should know that I don't do casual sex," _Oh God. _My pregnant best friend frowns at her brother's choice of words as Dom is also in the room playing with his Legos, "Besides, may I remind you that I have a lovely girl waiting for my return back in Kentucky. Apart from that, Marleene…" he side-hugs me, "and I have had one hell of a day, getting to know each other…as friends, of course," I nod in agreement.

Mackenzie wobbles off to the couch and settles down clearly miffed, "Whatever you guys say. That Maria chick you told me about sounds like an airhead looks like one too. I saw her on that wrestling show Marleene watches."

Punk laughs, "It's just a charact-"

"Just a character, I know but she plays it too well. I don't like her," mutters the wavy-haired dirty blonde.

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I pray that the pair of siblings will refrain from kicking off a verbal brawl in which I'd probably have to referee.

The brother slides in next to Micks and embraces her, "Squirt, don't get all hot and bothered. I'll be leaving before you know it and I want us to have some good ol' quality time together,"

This brother-sister moment moves me. I miss my own siblings. Caro moved with Pop and _Tio_ Vidal to Maryland and Fannie…she's resting six feet under. Snapping out of my thoughts, I head on over to the bathroom. The reunited family deserves some time solo. Once alone in the bathroom, I let my tears fall without remorse. Much has happened in these last few hours, purely overwhelming. All of the trauma seemed to slip away during my time shared with Punk, cheesy as it is. He's an alright dude, a little rough around the edges and sarcastic everywhere else, but overall nice to be around. _He's not an option though, girl._

Splashing water on my face to ride of smeared makeup, I look in the full length mirror nailed to the bathroom door and shrug off my jacket. My autographed jersey comes off as well, revealing all around yellowing bruises to soon disappear from my body. The cuts and scrape has scarred as well appearing to be nothing more than maroon slits and dots. My black eye is nothing but a small blemish, my eyes opening up little by little. Progress. Progress, like I'm ready to flip the page and start a new chapter in my life.

Smiling back at my reflection, "It's gonna be okay…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _Woo! This was hard to write, haha. Keep believing in me!_


	10. Cuanto Me Cuesta

Exiting the bathroom, I overhear the siblings talking. Nothing is big until I hear my name come out of Micks's mouth and my ears perk up. I know it's immoral to eavesdrop but I'm a sinner, sue me.

"…So Marleene…" I can virtually hear the smirk in her tone.

"What about her?" asks Punk.

"Oh, I dunno…" she sing-songs.

"Fine, I know how crazy your little curiosity is driving you…Nothing happened, kiddo. _Nada_. Zilch."

The pregnant chick blows a raspberry, "Liar! What was that…you know, you guys rolling in the leaves? Don't forget that moment in the kitchen," I can imagine her silly grin.

"Stop trying to jump to conclusions, squirt."

"Philly we both know that that's not the case. You find her attractive, don't ya'?"

"Don't call me that, _Mack_. She's cute…" few seconds late, "Stop looking at me like that…okay, okay…she's fucking beautiful, damn," I hear a muffled shriek and the a string of giggles.

"Ooh, Uncle Punk likes Auntie Marley!" that line gave me butterflies, "Tisk, tisk, tisk Uncle. Ladies cloud the mind but my auntie is super nice…ask her out!" _aw, too kind!_

"Hmm, I don't know, champ. How about you run along and play you Nintendo before I tuck you in for the night."

The kid lets out a whoop and dashes out of the living room and into me, "Aunt-"

I scramble to put and over his mouth, "Shh…whisper!"

He churns out of my grips, "Why are you hiding?" he asks.

"I'm just playing spy," _nice save_

He lights up enthusiastically, "Can I play too?"

"No!" he pouts, "I mean, isn't near your bedtime? I'd rather log in more minutes on that gaming system of yours."

He takes my suggestion into consideration, "You're right."

"Always am, now run along but keep shush, okay?"

He nods and skips off into his room. I sink to the ground relieved and keep listening in for anything worth hearing.

"…forgotten because reminiscing about those days is like sprinkling salt in the wound. You can mend that!" Mackenzie sighs agitatedly, "I know you never forgot and I'm sorry but there's still a chance, especially now."

"I…I don't seem to remember anything. Must be all the bumps I've taken over the years."

"Your twenty-five going onto twenty-six, Phil," breathing heavily Micks lowers her voice to an a despair-filled whisper, "You're young…you're young and uncompromised…no kid, no nothing…you have time to do college, Phil. Wrestling, I know it's your life but…" her voice begins to crack, "I…I am terrified. Every time you fail to drop me a line on Wednesday exactly at ten at night…I panic. I plunk down on my bed clutching the phone and pray to whomever will hear my pleas asking for you not to be fatally concussed-"

"We spot everything out, no need to worry about me. It's not good for you or the munchkin or-"

"Let me talk!" shrieks his sister, "I walked out on Dad. He was rotten motherfucker, so I was more that fine. Mike dropped off the radar and to this day I don't know how to feel. Elle disappeared all together like without a trace. Ace he hasn't been home in months. Don't you see? You're all I got left, Phil! You…you're all…I…don't wanna lose you…Phil," her voices breaks into a heart achingly painful sob. I'm guessing Phil is holding her due to her muffled sounding sobs.

Punk lulls his youngest sibling into soundless sobs, "Squirt, I am not going anywhere. I might be in Kentucky but you can call me anytime, anywhere. I am not abandoning my baby sister, ever. You gotta understand that my dream is so close, so close that I can touch it. I am signed already. Only a matter of time 'till they call me up to one of the shows. Don't ask me to give up my dream, kiddo. I've made it this far, I'll be fine. We'll be fine. Ace'll come home, you'll have this munchkin, and we'll be just…fine."

Crawling away with guilt weighing me down, I creep into Dom's room to find the joyful kid already asleep. I crawl into bed with him, heavy hearted, and pray for uninterrupted slumber - Dreamless slumber.

ΔΔΔΔ

Upon waking up from another restless night of slumber, I find myself cursing out in pain. Somehow by some weird act of nature, I wake up with my head dangling from the edge of the bed. My neck's stiffer than an erection. Mind still foggy, I can still make out snickers. I sit up and notice that the light's on.

"Fuck bills!" I mumble, feeling ever so irritated – not a morning person or middle of the afternoon either. I hear full out bursts of unbridled laughter and crane my neck, paining it more, over to the door, "You demon spawns!"

"Sorry, Auntie, but you're super funny when you wake up!" laughs Dom almost keeling over.

"Couldn't agree more with Spunky," adds the midget's uncle failing to wipe that stupid grin off his damn face.

Regardless of the kid's presence, I flip Punk the bird, "I hate you guys right now."

"Hate us somewhere else, Spunky and I have important matters to discuss," grunting I slide off the bed, wedgie and all, but Phil stops to whisper in my ear, "Wait for me outside the door."

Nodding, I half-close the door behind me and spin around to see what this "important matter" is all about.

Punk pats the space next to him, on Dominick's car bed, and the kid jumps up, "What's up, Uncle?"

The uncle pats the little man's head, "What'd you think about our trip to Chicago? Was it fun?"

The kid jumps up and down, "It was cool! Your friends are so cool! 'Specially that place where they had ginormous pizza!"

Punk grins, "I knew you were one of us. I glad you enjoyed it. I've enjoyed all the time we've spent together, sport."

"Me too; you're awesome, Uncle Punk. You tie with my dad."

A pierced brow shoots up, "Really?" the kiddo nods, "That's pretty rad. Thanks," demeanor changes in a blink of an eye, serious, "Look, buddy, the head honcho down where I work called me this morning. He said that I need to head on back."

Dominick's eyes furrow, "What? Why?" his eyes glisten.

"My mini-vacation is over, champ. I gotta go wrestle and earn some more money so I can come back."

Broken-hearted the midget asks, "When?"

His eyes flash and his hands fidget around with a frayed seam, "I don't know."

Dominick promptly latches onto Phil's side, as if that'd stop the man from leaving, "I don't want you to go, it's not fair!"

Pulling an arm around the boy, Phil rubs his nephew's back, "I don't either, but I have responsibilities. I have to go through with them, bud. Believe me when I tell you, if I could, I'd take you on the road with me."

My heart sinks for the hundredth time as tiny but audible sobs rack my little man's body, "No, no, no…No! You don't have to! Uncle, stay here with Mommy and the baby! Stay with me and Auntie Marley, I know you like her…please? Don't leave me like Daddy always does, please," begs the child and tears roll down my cheeks.

Finding his steel ship sinking into the waters of emotion, Punk sniffles, "Don't do this, buddy. This was so much easier the first time when you were but a little pipsqueak," Phil wipes his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie, "I swear to Jebus almighty and any higher power that I'll return as soon as I can. Maybe I'll bring my best buddy, Colt, so we can have another escapade or something, okay? But you, champ, you gotta promise me something, yeah?"

"Anything."

"Take extra special care of your mommy. She's a little loony right now. Keep a close eye on that aunt of yours, as well. Be the man of the house 'till your pops comes home, okay? These women, we can't ever be sure about them…they cloud the mind," they laugh, a soft, short, remorseful laugh.

"Promise, cross my heart and hope to die."

After a noogie, Punks speaks up, "Okay, you promised…better keep it. Now give this old man a bear hug," they embrace tightly like they're each other's life support and Punk comes apart like a glass vase, "I love…love you so much, champ, don't you ever let anyone tell you any different. You're my most favorite kid on earth."

"I love you so, so, so much, Uncle Punk. Don't forget me."

One last squeeze and Punk lets go of the fragile child, "I've gotta get going. Stay here, okay? Because if you come out, I'll never have the nerve to leave and I'll have no job to go back to. I love you."

He approaches the door and I wipe all evidence of my having listened in off my face. Blondielocks squeezes past me beckoning for me to follow him to the living room where his baby sister is already crying.

"What did I tell you?" lectures Blondielocks, "No tears, squirt!"

Blubbering, "I…I know it's just…hormones and I'm going…to miss you, asshole."

Punk laughs and cradles his sister, "I will too, but it's not forever. I promised your kid and I'm promising you: I'll be back as soon as Paul lets me off again," he kneels to eye-level talk to Mick's protruding belly, "You're not off the hook, little developing alien. Behave yourself, okay? Stay in there for as long as you can…the real world sucks." I smile at the endearing moment, "This is it, I am off. I love you to infinity and beyond, not just quoting Toy Story, okay?"

"I love you too, Philly. Say 'hello' to Colt and Maria, I guess."

"Sure will," he sets towards the door snagging me along. The frigid air greets us upon swinging open the front door. His grip is still secured onto my arm until we're in the driveway and I'm fretting over developing pneumonia, "So…"

_Thirty-two degrees and only one syllable? _Shivering somewhat fiercely, "So? I…I'm freezing!"

"I know you listened in on my conversation with the alien incubator, sweetheart," he says flatly.

Due to the arctic-like temperature, my blush can luckily hidden by the already rosiness in my cheeks, "Curiosity…it killed me…so, so sorry…heard my name and-"

"It's fine, nothing confidential," he toys with his lip-ring, "Yesterday was pretty sweet. You're not as bad as I thought you out to be. I've seen your work, by the way, I still stand corrected," my lips quiver wanting to smile but due to the weather…, "You're a beautiful chick. If I were single, I wouldn't let you slip by. That bitch wasted a good girl. You deserve better than better-"

"You trying to stuff me up with a these compliments?"

He smiles, the kind that brings out his Crow's feet and squints his eyes – his real smile, "I'm all about honesty, beautiful," he reaches into his pockets and takes out his vintage looking Pokémon wallet, "I don't know when and if I'll make it back before the bun is out of the oven so please take care of my baby sister," he hands me some cash, "Fill up the fridge and pay off some of her bills. My apartment, I'm renting it out to a friend so that cash will flow into Mick's pocket as well."

My eyes bulge, "Are you hiding a Superman suit under your clothes?"

He pulls up the elastic band of his boxers, "Batman."

I laugh, "You've got nothing to worry about. Micks and I have had each other's _backs since middle school," I tell him reassuringly. Mustering up some much_ needed courage, I hug him, "Thank you for everything."

He rubs me back soothingly, "It was nothing," he pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes, "It was a pleasure meeting you."

The intensity in which those olive pigmented eyes envelop me, draw me in like. They send out sonic waves, entrancing me. Something about them…something gives me flashes of I don't know, like I've known them for long and I don't want to let them fly.

Before I know anything, his forehead makes contact with my. His icy breath further chaps my lips and for a moment…_for a moment_…I believe he's going to kiss me and thing is I don't mind – wouldn't mind, "I have Maria waiting for me…" he kisses my forehead and slips away leaving me stunned in his wake.

An engines roars to life and promptly takes off and I stand there long after. Wondering. Yes, wondering what in the fuck has just happened.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Feel. Feels everywhere! If my work ain't cutting it, my girl LeylaChaz's "We Will Always Have Twitter" won't disappoint!_


	11. Jingle Bells

_Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh…o'er the hills we go, laughing all the way…!_

Its winter time in the Midwest, that means…white fucking Christmas! That treasured holiday is weeks away but still. The temperatures haven't dropped to an all-time low, yet but damn…I miss the fall. The white blanket has covered everything. The roads have nasty slush all over them and there's ice as well. Winter fucking sucks but seeing as Dominick is out in the snow dusk to dawn…I can bear it. His happiness is my happiness.

"Auntie, stop standing around and help me!" whines the bundled up kid. He's on a quest to build the best snowman in the world, according to him.

"That's a one-man job though!"

"Lazy," he mutters.

"What you say?" bending down to scoop up some snow, "Better watch that mouth!"

"Or what?" he challenges, shaking his butt tauntingly. I throw the snow at him and thus initiate a snowball fight.

Couple weeks have flown by since Punk left the nest. I find myself missing his varied smirks and Cheshire cat grins. Every now and then, the memory of the almost-kiss crosses my mind and brings up confusion along with a handful unanswered questions. The "Alien Incubator", the name that sort've stuck because of him, called him on his birthday to show some love his way. I was handed the phone and we spoke for a couple of minutes. It's depressing how those minutes had illuminated my lousy day.

Squeal and screeches escape us snowball war veterans as we aim a hit each other. I wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors came out to yell at our ass…wouldn't mind at all either.

"Come and get it, Auntie Marley!" taunts the little man.

Completely out of breath, "Laugh…while you…can…rascal!"

"Kids, come back inside and get ready! I have an appointment, remember?" hollers Mackenzie from the porch. Both her son and I groan, "Pack it in!"

Grousing, we do as we're told and pack it in. Arriving at the porch, Dominick shimmies out of his snow-pants and kicks off his boots, splattering dirty snow in my face. Moaning out in disgust, I shimmy out of my jacket that might as well be a board and soaked boots. The house is a man-made iceberg. Micks let me in on her financial problems, starting with a broken heater that is close to a grand to fix. Her army assistance check thing barely covers her basic needs and my wage is barely enough to live off of.

Dreams are meant to stay dreams for a reason and ever since the temperature began to drop, I've been applying for jobs left and right with no result. I have no working experience, like none. Those ads lie: 'no experience needed'. It isn't need but sure as hell preferred. Office jobs a rare around the area and if they are…nobody in their right mind hires somebody who drifted through high school.

"_Corazon_, you need a ride?" I ask Micks as she hurries to and fro.

"Could you hook it up, _por favor_? _Estoy_ stressed!" _she's been working on her Spanish, yay! _

"On it," she twists, all sorts of papers in her hands, to shoot me a thankful smile, "Relax, will ya? We're minutes away from finding out if the alien is a girl or a boy!"

Situating myself on the couch with a comfy throw, I dial up my one trusty co-worker, "Carlos, can you give me a lift?"

Spluttering and couching, "Sure thing…the chick's house…from last time?" _Fucking bitch, he's smoking…without you!_

Sour-faced, "I warned you about smoking without me, Carlos…"

"I told you the other day but you were in a mood."

I grumble and sigh, "I could really use some relief. Whatever though, thank you for the ride, beep when you're here."

"Sure thing."

Hanging up the phone, I rush into my room, the spare room Micks is letting me stay in, and throw on some sweats and a sweater, pull my hair in a pony, and touch up my makeup. Afterwards, I walk off into the best friend's room to find her struggling with putting on her shirt.

"It doesn't cost a thing to knock, you know?"

Snickering, "I've seen your ass naked close to a billion times already. You ain't got anything I haven't seen, babes, so why bother?" she chucks a pillow at me, "What do you think it's going to be?"

"Feels like I am bigger this time and the nausea was killer as well…I put money on a girl," she surmises, "Whatever it is, I just hope he or she's healthy and that it actually lets the doc see."

"Has Ace come up with a hypothesis?"

The woman stops gathering her papers in order, "He was ecstatic about my being knocked up…the last time I've heard of him."

Ace, her husband, deployed close to half a year ago. I was present when Mick broke the news which was four months ago. Harsh. I just stare at my feet and let her go about her business, silently praying for Carlos's to pick up the speed and get here.

_Bells on bob tails ring__ making spirits bright what fun it is to laugh and sing a sleighing song tonight…!_

I've gone through _Jingle Bells _twice now and his car has pulled into the driveway. _Thank you, Jesus! _I spring off to pick up Dom and drag ourselves to Carlos's humming automotive but before getting close enough I pick up a snowball and aim it at his window.

"_Pinche malcriada_, what the fuck?"

"I had to," I tell him getting Dom into the vehicle as well as myself, "The big lady will be here shortly."

"It's all good. How you doin' lil' man?" my co-worker asks Dominick.

"Freezing but loving the snow."

"He loves snow as much you love women, Casanova." I add.

"They God's work, Curlyfries," he stares out the window at Micks shutting the front door, "Talking 'bout God's work…"

I roll my eyes, ever since Casanova met Alien Incubator; he's been trying to holler at her. It's cute. It does wonders to her lacking self-esteem but Wes and I don't dig it. Me because she's a babymomma, married, and in no condition to be out and about with a womanizer. Wes on the other hand, he has feelings – long time feeling – as they were a couple way, way back in the day.

"Hey Carlos," greets Mackenzie as she slides in shot gun, "Thanks for the ride, by the way," she says as she secures her seatbelt.

The Californian smiles and winks at her, "Thank you for my making my day a little brighter."

Gagging, "Can we get this shit in gear? We got places to go and places to be at!"

ΔΔΔΔ

"My, aren't you glowing, hello Mackenzie, how are you feeling today?" inquires Dr. Topaz as she struts into the room.

Mackenzie gives off a nervous laugh and appreciative smile, "Like a blown up balloon, doc. Other than that, I am excited as hell!"

The elderly doctor pats Micks's knee and says, "If you knew how often I hear that expression," she chuckles, "Please lay down for me so we can see how the baby is doing and hopefully get a glimpse of it's sex…this little one's a hider."

Covering my goofy smile, I will myself to think of dead puppies. The word and the way doctors say it. I scoot next to my best friend's side and grasp her hand for extra emotional support. This is the first time in years that I'm in here with her. The last couple appointments, Wes had accompanied her as Ace hasn't been available.

Nothing other than the steady little heartbeat sounds through the monitor. Every angle that Dr. Topaz tries is of no use. The little keeps hiding. A defeated look passes across the young mother's eyes and all I can do is rub her hand.

"Wait…I think…it's a girl," the doctors say, more to herself than to us, "Yes, it's a baby girl, congrats Mommy!" she excuses herself to gives us some much needed privacy.

The door closes and we both let out joyful yelps. The dirty blonde becomes a bit overwhelmed with emotion but it's understandable. The news is alarming and this is her first girl. I undergo a pang of jealousy and remorse but it washes away as I am all high spirits.

"Ace is going to be up the wall when he hears about this, I hope he calls soon! I can't even believe it!" she shrills ecstatically.

"Me neither! Congrats, _mamita_," I embrace her and help her off the table.

Posterior to Dr. Topaz's okay, we haul ass to where Carlos and Dom await us and tell them the joyous new. My little man doesn't take the news with much enthusiasm. He was hoping for a brother so they could do 'manly things' together with their old man. Alas we hype him up with some breakfast at a local diner called _Charlie's_. I'd been the one to treat them to it but in the end, it was Casanova that paid for it. I only had ten bucks left in my wallet and my check wasn't arriving 'till next week.

The fact rained on my parade. I didn't let anyone in on it; Casanova just saw and offered graciously. After we were dropped off I paid him a big ol' thanks.

"It's all good in the hood, mami," replies Carlos, shrugging me off.

"You're the best. Tell Jee to for up that free blunt, yeah?"

"We'll get on it tomorrow, for sure," he winks and drives off and I drag myself inside.

Inside, however, I gather all of Mick's bills and my checkbook and go to work. In high school, we were taught the basics of managing money and whatnot but those were the classes I took off. Today is the day those ditches came back to bite me in the ass. All I have to my name are those same ten bucks in my wallet. I'd shared my account with Noah, whom I haven't heard or seen in ages, and he'd withdrawn every damn penny. I, Marleene Karime Soto, am worth ten bucks.

Reading every bill there was to read; I tallied them all up and got number in the thousands. The tax bill, the heftiest of all, is _four _months overdue. They've sent out warnings and such. Every other bill is fine but where in the hell am I going to rake up currency and how when there all due? The army check has already come in but as stated before: basics and the small family.

Money signs, numbers, deadlines rack through my overworked brain. It feels like I am about to blow up. The best for me at this point is to get away for a while until I have my shit together. Yes, getting away sound fan-fucking-tastic: maybe pick up a cheap bottle of liquor and pass out for a while. There's no real appropriate reason for me to worry the already fretful mother-to-be.

"Where you going, Mar?" asks Micks, bewildered by my sudden abandoning of the table.

"Out."

_Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells__, jingle all the way! Oh, what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh…!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _It was more of a filler chapter, preparing for a bigger picture(?) Marleene was singing inside her head...it's not a songfic chapter, haha._


	12. Million Dollar Man

_Eleven years ago…_

Rain pours down the window pane creating a drum-like beat making reaching full concentration difficult as I try to complete my homework as well as help Caro with hers. Stupid girl thinks her simple subtraction and addition is hard as opposed to my double digit multiplication and division. We'd ask Fannie, since she's a brainiac, but she's busy waiting for Pops to ascend down the stairs.

We hear the creaky steps and Fannie assaults Pops with her interrogation of Estella's, our mother's, whereabouts, "I don't know…" sighs my father bleakly.

"Wha…what? What do you mean 'I don't know'?" she asks raising her voice up a notch, "My fifteenth birthday is in less than forty-eight hours and I haven't seen her since Sunday! _Todo lo que pedi fue _that we would be all reunited for a family dinner in the city!" she shouts furiously, "I am not having a _quinceanera_, Pa, so where is she?"

"_Madresita_, I don't know," my father tiredly sits down on our beat-up couch to catch his breath. He works a fourteen hour day, "She's…she's probably at work. You know how sometimes her boss keeps her."

Fannie rolls her eyes, "She's probably fucking her husband…" she mutters. Estella is a maid here and there, supposedly, and more often than not, she stays at the boss's house.

"_Que_ _dijiste_?" exclaims my dad.

"That, _esa mujer_ doesn't know the definition of a job! She's a drunk and a druggie! Don't tell me you believe her lies, Pa…_te anda poniendo el cuerno_ somewhere just to get her fix!" she bellows.

I scramble to pack up my schoolwork and begin to usher Caro out of the room. It's going to get ugly and worse. This is a recurrent event in my house and I rather not have Caro witness it but too late. Dad has jumped off the couch and slapped the soul out of Fannie.

Her pretty hazelnut colored hair swings to the side covering up her enraged eyes as Dad barks at her, "Never and I mean never talk about your mother like that! You hear, _pinche malcriada?_ Never," he begins to take off his fine leather belt and horrified tears roll down Caro's cheeks, "_Ya me tienes bien pinche arto de tus pend_-"

"You're gonna hit me?" clamors my older sister, "I am not a fucking child anymore, Pa! I trying to open your damn eyes but you know what? Fuck you." she stomps out into the pouring rain, making sure to slam the door.

My dad stands looking out the raindrop stained window, watching her run away into the unknown. I think we might need to get new windows because drops have made it inside. They run down my father's face, like tears or something. He wipes them off and turns to us. His youngest children huddled in fear and smiles sadly, beckoning to us.

Caro fretfully does before I do. We embrace our aged father as he sits down and hugs us back, "_Mis chiquitas_…" he mumbles, "_Saben que Papa las quiere, verdad?_"

"We love you too, Pa," whispers Caro, she's always been a Daddy's little girl.

He hugs us even tigher, "Thank you. Listen to me, alright. Listen closely," he clears his throat, "I know _Mama_ hasn't been the best but she tries. Your sister, she just doesn't appreciate that she's busy," he pulls us away, "When you two are grown, beautiful women, I want you guys to be smart…study to be doctors, teachers, or something because _Papa_ would be so proud. What would break my heart would be to hear that you've been bad or done drugs," his voice chips, "That will make me feel like I wasn't a good dad to you guys."

Caro immediately hugs him, "Don't worry, Daddy."

I hold back. It's a hidden message: don't be like your mother. My baby sister doesn't comprehend that but maybe when we're older…she will. And as much as Pops loves that woman he calls a wife, he knows it better than anyone else but refuses to see.

ΔΔΔΔ

"Sorry, Pops…" I whisper to the spine-wrecking wind.

Somewhere around midnight, I lost track of time. That tends to happen most nights I'm on road duty. The bitter cold prevents me from floating away from thoughts of warmth. Quite frankly, I have come to believe that the blunt that is my hand isn't doing me any good either but I can't will myself to throw it away. It's my sanity.

"I see a caddie coming down the block, girl," informs me my patrol partner, Sasha.

Sure enough, there a vehicle coming to slow stop. It's a sleek, polished caddy with chrome twenty-fours clean enough see my reflection. Sasha tousles her hair and struts over to the passenger's side and knocks on the window. As its dark, I can see the driver but barely make out any of his features. All I know is she's chatting up a faceless man who keeps pointing at me.

"Marleene," she motions for me to go over and I do, dropping my blunt in the snow, "He's lonely tonight, good luck," she whispers and walks off.

Gulping, as per usual, I muster up my best seductive voice, "Evening, honey. Mind if I join you for a spin?"

His features are still darkened all I can see is his nose and down. From the wrinkles I can tell he's an older gentleman, "Not at all, gorgeous," he replies. His voice is gravelly.

I open the door and look back at Sasha who nods; I get in and close the door. We're off. As we round the corner, I get the balls to look his way. I'll be damned, he looks familiar. Very fucking familiar but the name eludes me.

"We're in for a long ride so get comfortable, gorgeous," his says. His tone gives me the creeps…but every single one does as well.

Sinking back into the heated seat, I allow it to lull me to sleep - in and out of sleep, due to the affects of the drug in my brain. Prayers for God to keep me under his wing of safety enter my brain every time I realize how far we are from the block I was picked up at.

Finally, the vehicle comes to a half and I jerk out of my slumber. Sudden anxiety fills my entire being making my palms sweat. The need to know his plans increases. My stomach tosses and turns every which way as he steps out of the vehicle and comes around to open my door.

"I promise, I don't bite, sweetheart," he reassures with a grin that could rival the Big Bad Wolf's and nothing about the sly glint in his eye gives me a sense of security but I take his hand and step out.

We're in the grand city of Chicago just near Lake Michigan. _Girl, you're far from Lockport now…_ For as long as I have existed, I've never visited any of Chicago's touristy, rich side much less the "Magnificent Mile". This is my first glimpse and I know I already don't belong. Not with my _Discovery _bought mini-dress or non-designer heels. The bright lights rat me out and every snooty passerby eyes me with despise knowing my kind.

"Come on, dollface, you're going to catch something," says the old geezer as he yanks me into him, "Take care of my baby, son," he says to the young valet that looks as though he's ready to bow at his feet.

Every inch of this section is gloriously filled with people, restaurants, bars, and shops…even the Hancock Tower. We round the corner and I gape. We enter heaven. Literally, all the walls are while and the tiles floors are polished white. It's the award winning _Waldorf Astoria_. The ancient looking statues appear to be made of gold and the man behind the desk greets us with shiny bright teeth.

"Welcome back, Mr. McMahon and Miss…"

_McMahon?_ I nearly fall through all the perfection of this hotel. I manage to spill out, "Marleene," without passing out.

"and Miss _Marleene_," he repeats in that forged smile he's required to give.

McMahon pulls the fella aside and exchanges a Benjamin and I know it's surely not for the set of keys he's given. Either way, I find myself being escorted into a mirrored elevator. It's spacious but I feel a wave of claustrophobia. It's a long nineteen floors up and I can feel Vincent's burning gaze. He eyes me like a slice of overpriced meat.

The elevator dings announcing that we've arrived at the penthouse. Distress overcomes me, envelops me. I can't even move my knees have buckled. This man is legendary and by the looks of it, is about to tear me apart. Old as he is. My queasy stomach threatens to send what little it procures up my esophagus. The doors open and I am back in heaven, maybe beyond.

My company envelops me at the waist and leads me through the entirety of the penthouse; I might say I've experienced a visual orgasm of some kind. He kicks a set of double doors to unveil the majestic bedroom. It could be suit of its own.

Figuratively, I've died so many times tonight, I cannot bear to count. This is above and beyond anything my eyes have ever laid their sight upon. The power of currency in this life is superior to anything else. One entire side of the room is filled by windows with curtains made of embroidered peach fabric. The bed itself takes up a third of the room – it's colossal. Talk about pillows for days. I launch myself onto it mindlessly and it beats out cloud nine. Silk feels sweet under my skin, therapeutics almost. An antique vanity stands off near chests and drawers as well as an imported changing screen.

Lifting my head, I notice that Vinny Mac has taken the liberty of bringing wine while I was taking the room in, "Boy, are you sinfully beautiful…" he muses out loud. He fills us both of the glasses with the wine in his grasp. The bottle is coated in a layer of metallic gold foil with a spade with an _A _and I recognize it as _Ace of Spades_. _Wow…_

He holds out the glass to me and I crawl to it, salivating at the thought of drinking such a pricey drink, "Thank you."

"Here's to a _pleasurable_ night," he raises his glass as do I.

Savoring the taste, I flash the man I grew to love throughout the year for giving me the world of wrestling on my television. This man made many of my days awesome. He hired many of the men I grew crushes on and the women I aspired to be and idolized. His power strut gave me giggles and his phrase "You're fired!" was my first impression. After tonight, none of that would ever be the same.

Clearing my mind to absolutely nothing, I gulp down the rest of my drink to gain a tad of liquor-infuse courage and kiss this geezer, ever so sensually pulling off articles of clothing and throwing him down on his above-the-clouds bed. Hoping that nobody interrupts for the sake of not gaining fifteen minutes of stardom by rolling in the hay with a multi-millionaire, a married one.

ΔΔΔΔ

Feels like a millennium since I've lost myself to my innermost thoughts. I just lie atop the clouds, butt-naked next to an equally naked semi-stranger. His systematic breathing blows against the back of my neck sending uncomfortable shivers up and down my spine. The sun's rays break through the window making me squint. What I've done condemns me. I am a slut and the fact makes me cry, softly though. Shameful as it is, stooping this low is what has been paying off the bills that so badly needed to be paid. Sure, I still occupy my time at the parlor but that isn't enough…never will be. Nobody was calling back so busting down was the closest thing possible – profitable even. One would be surprised how many thirsty men there are in the world.

Rolling my head to the side, I see that the geezer is very much out cold. I slide out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, gathering my discarded clothing in the mix. Even the bathroom is award-worthy. Once I get over my shock, I grab a towel and soak it under the stainless steel faucet and start scrubbing at my skin furiously to try and get rid of this feeling of nastiness. My usually tan skin is reddened by the force. Feels like an OCD that consumes me; a tick that won't budge. I fall to my knees sobbing. This wasn't the way I had imagined my life would be, not at all.

My bra, panties, and stockings come on. I crawl out of the bathroom, doing nothing but bad to my knees, to get my shoes and dress but the phone blares making me tense up. Panicking, seeing as Vince is bound to wake sooner rather than later, I stand up and make a show of stretching out my somewhat sore limbs.

Vince puts the phone to his ear whilst eyeing my every move. I strut over to his side and straddle him. Kissing his neck and whispering into his unoccupied ear, "Paul, son, what can I help you with?" _Paul as in Triple H? _I go cold as a corpse only to be brought back to life by Vince's erection, which surprises me since he's past his prime, "Oh no, we're fine…Yeah, Linda spontaneously made us land in Chicago…she wanted to visit her sick cousin…" he motions for me to keep quiet, "No,no we're due back soon…Alright, take care. Tell Steph I said 'Hi'," with that he hangs up and turns his affections to me. _No point in having scrubbed…_

"You enjoy yourself, Vinny," I coo.

"Like a kid in the candyshop, dollface. Get up and turn for me though," questioningly, I do as he demands. _Enjoy while you can! _

"You like what you see, sugar?" I try my best to strap down the vile.

"Like? Love!" he gets off the bed and I catch a shot of his shriveled dick and get disgusted goosebumps. He comes up behind me, grinding against, "Lose some and I could make you a star. Make you the biggest thing that ever hit my business, dollface."

His wrinkly fingers snake into my panties and begin to stimulate me, I fake moan and giggle slyly, "I bet you could…" another moan, "I must be going, Vince."

Frowning a fraction, he slides over to his pants and gets his wallet out. He pulls out half a grand, I almost floor, "Here, you were amazing…made an oldman feel new… I'll put in another $200 to keep this between us…" he winks and did as he said. He pulls out a business card and slips it into my bra, "Should you need anything or take up my offer, call and ask for me; tell them you're a friend or something… _Marleene_." He kisses me and walks into the bathroom, "Hopefully, we'll meet again…_gorgeous_. Oh just ask a receptionist to call one of my men to drive you to your destination." With that he disappears into the bathroom completely, leaving me like another disposed conquest.

On my way down, I spy the same receptionist that held us up yesterday. _Woo! Walk of Shame! _I shame my way past him, not missing the sour look on his face, and hail a cab.

Even on the ride there, I can't believe the luck and misfortune of having met Vince McMahon. The same man who'd inducted plenty of Superstars into his Kiss-My-Ass-Club, the man who feuded time and time again with my idol, Stone Cold Steve Austin. It'd be hell of a story to tell but then again, nobody will ever know of it – not even the people who know of my "job". Who'd want to imagine me being touched by a wrinkly perve? Who'd want to know of the thought that got me "ready" for the man was that of Phil Brooks? Nobody, that's who and I don't even wish to remember. It'd further shame me for anybody else to know of my true nature.

_The locals know though, girly! _That strikes me. I've done a handful of the area's men…and women. I wonder if Micks knew and what she'd say if she did. What would I tell her?

"We've arrived, ma'am," announces the driver. As I start pulling out a wad of cash from one of the pockets in my dress, he stops me, "I was sent by a Mr. McMahon. No need."

I blush and mutter a "thanks" before heading out into the frigid cold. I watch the cab speed off into the distance and start trudging my way home, half a block away. Cursing the snow and my creator the entire way through.

In plain sight, I start running the rest of the way home. I feel under the porch for the spare key and open the door. Still the cold envelops me but at least it's the one inside my own home. Leaning over to take off my shoes, I see a figure in the TV's reflection and utter a "fuck". Standing up, I peek to see it's Micks holding a mug to her lips as if waiting for something or somebody…or me.

"There you are…" she says icily.

I laugh nervously, "Here I am…"

"Where have you been, Marleene?" _and you're caught up!_

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_DUN DUN DUNNNN! I don't know if I was smart including ol' Vinny Mac but I thought it'd be a good turn. Thank you for the read!  
><em>


	13. Summertime Sadness

Her accusing glare makes me feel like I'm under a spotlight. She assesses me in depth as if my state of dress will let on to my previous indiscretions Her eyebrow rises, "Cat got your tongue?"

Fondling the spare key in my hand, I reply, "Nope. I just didn't realize that you'd be up, that's all," I grin cheekily.

The pregnant chick lifts off the couch and wobbles around to stand in front of me, "It's roughly six in the morning and this is the time I usually pay the kitchen a visit. I snuck a peek in your room and guess what…"

Taking her silence as a signal to fill in the blank, "What?"

"You weren't there," she flatly states.

"I guess I got caught up…sorry - didn't mean to scare you, honestly."

As I step around her, she grabs my arm, "What had you so absorbed, might I ask?"

Tapping my foot impatiently, it's fucking freezing and my body is shaking from the ice cold water that seeped into my heels on the way home, "I was partying with the crew, okay? We were doing shots and stuff and time passed me by. Now can you please excuse me?" I shrug off her hand and proceed to my room.

"Funny. I called up Wes thinking the same…he said he hadn't seen you since he officially locked up the place."

Stopping in my tracks, I try as best as I can to not look guilty. The wheels are turning in her head. The discrepancy in both our stories is blaring. _What if she knows?_ If she does, she's going the interrogation route which unnerves me because I'd rather just quit beating around the bush.

"I love you, honey, I do but you're ball hopping right now."

"You're in _my _house. You've been coming in a random hours of the night and sometimes dawn…I'm worried about you."

Scratching my scalp out of nervous instinct, "Don't worry. I'm fine."

She crosses her arms over her belly quite unconvinced, "I know you, Marleene, and I know you very damn well. You aren't fine."

"I am fine, goddamn!"

Her posture softens, "I thought we made an honesty pact, remember? We said that whatever problem came our way, we wouldn't fail to let the other know? 'Cus we're best friends and we tell each other the nitty-gritty bits of everything?" she pulls a face, "Don't make me use the 'I guess I was wrong' line, babes."

And that's how I always manage to be roped into guilt. I've tried so hard to push this boulder of a problem up the hill and now, it's about to roll back down and hurt somebody; all because of a stupid, yet sacred, pact.

Tugging her over to the couch, I sit down next to her and let my face fall, "Look, Abi-"

She clasps a hand over her mouth, "You're using my middle name. You always use it when it's something serious. Oh my…!"

It takes all my self-restraint not to slap her across her face for being so damn loud. Instead of doing so, I grab her cold hand and delve deep into her eyes, "Before anything, I just want you to know that anything I've done is solely for our benefit, okay? I love you and Dominick oh so very fucking much. You two are like my second family," my eyes start to fog up. _This is shit…_, "Remember when we found out that the baby's a girl?" she nod completely unsure of anything, "I suggested we do Charlie's…I…Carlos he paid instead…I couldn't pay. I couldn't pay because all I had were ten bucks. All I had to my name were those same ten bucks, Abigail, ten," my voice breaks and to hell with it all, "Ten and a pile of money-grubbing bills! My job…it…it doesn't do anything…I had to go into survival mode…I had to pick up anything that was thrown at me. I picked up," I take one last look at her and the face says all that need to be said. She knows, "I've taken up street walking."

Personally, I don't know what hurts the most: the stinging sensation that radiates off my cheek after slap she just delivered or the repugnance written all over her face and absolute disappointment in her eyes. Either way, it hurt; emotionally and physically.

"You're a whore? I…I defended you! All those people…I…how?" she splutters like a fish out of water, "Have you no fucking shame? What is my ki-"  
><em>God, please forgive me for my sins.<em> I slap her sending her head swaying to the side and back. Tears brim the eyes that so closely resemble Punk's and that alone infuriate me more. My intentions weren't because of her slut-shaming, I deserve it. The slap was because instead of a least bit of remorse or somewhere along those lines, all she recognized were the words "street walking" and nothing but those words.

"I am doing this for you and those children, who have no reason to be suffering the consequences of bad choices! You really think I enjoy letting my body be touched by slimy, grimy men for the fuck of it?" I dig into my pocket and take out whatever money is in my bra and throw it at her feet, "I am a whore, slut-shame me up and down the street but I get money. What do you get sitting on your ass all day?"

I pick up my shrunken dignity and strut out the room and into mine making sure the lock is set. No need for pity pleas for forgiveness. She'll spew them but still think ignorantly and alienate me.

Taking the liberty I've acquired, I dig under my panty drawer for an emergency bottle of authentic tequila and rip off my slinky dress. Lying on my back next to my bed, I look at the rocky texture of the ceiling and just blank out the world. To drink, one does not need to know anything but that they'll soon enter a happy place…or one filled with tears.

My brain has chosen the latter, a third of the way down the bottle of sin. Tear streams blemish my face as the drunken section of my dear old brain chooses to remember happy times with Noah. By some force of the devil, I've acquired my hand-carved pocket knife and rake it across the carpet wondering how it'd feel against my skin. I was a cutter once upon a time.

One slash is all it takes for me to pick up the habit that I long abandoned when Noah arrived on his white horse and I am curious by nature. I don't feel a thing. Maybe it's the booze in my system. The blade slits up the flesh near my forearms where all my other scars are. I was taught to not be ashamed of them. I am. _The carotid ends it all, Marleene…_

ΔΔΔΔ

_Seven years ago…_

_-9:02p.m-_

The day has come, the first Saturday after graduation. Not my own but Fannie's. The bitch has finally made it out of the system with all her sexual organs intact – I could shed a tear. This Saturday marks the official beginning of a string of back-to-back grad parties. Fannie has gotten herself invited to the grand slam of all, the kick-off party being held at some snooty white kid's open house, binders full of half-naked women and guys, and truckloads of booze.

Somehow, some way we got ol' Daddy's permission to enjoy the festivities…of course leaving out the important details and promising to be perfect – model even – citizens. What the old man doesn't know won't kill him. Of course, Uncle Vidal is on top of everything – he's young enough to attend if he wanted to.

Now, the most distressing part of tonight is picking out the perfect outfit. Fannie and I don't hold any jobs – don't look for them – and we couldn't find it in our little hearts to beg Pops for cash as we're close to broke.

Littered all over the floor is my entire side of the closet and maybe half of sister dearest's, "Choose something, _gorda_," she pesters, touching up the minimal makeup she's applied.

Contemplating stealing one of her flattering skirts, I choose one of my own plaid high-waist ones that'll match my mid-condition Maryjanes and a simple black tank. I thank the magic of high-waist for concealing my extra baby fat – hence the nickname "_gorda_".

A honk comes from our driveway and I quickly apply some eyeliner and fluff my hair before dashing down the stairs and giving Dad a goodnight kiss and a wink to my uncle. Opening the door, I find our awaiting carriage in the driveway…or the Brooks's crappy sedan that the kids jacked from right under their parent's noses.

"Let's go before Pops sees our designated drive," whispers my sister as she appears at my side.

Nodding in agreement, I saunter over to the car and sit shotgun and kiss the chauffeur who's none other than Mike. We've developed a friends with benefits thing – more of the benefit less of the friend.

"Hey chicky-babies!" I sing to the sisters, Elle and Mick who look divine.

"Let's just go!"

Mike revs the engine, reverses, and speeds off into the dark giving us all a thrill

_-9:43p.m-_

Cars drift past us as we pile out of the hunk of junk we arrived in. We're pretty fuckin' pumped except we've got a block of distance between Wonderland and ourselves.

"Alright, Marleene and kids, we've got 'till four before the folks figure out that we've hijacked their car," announces Mike as he puts an arm around my waist, "Twerps, please don't give me a reason to go home blue-balled, okay?"

Elle laughs sarcastically, "I still can't believe you…"

Micks tucks some hair behind her ear and shoots me a disapproving look, "You're really pushing boundaries, Mike…"

Ignoring the pending verbal brawl, I take in the plentiful houses on this street. All resemble each other in style and whatnot. Most have three cars in their driveway and spacious front lawns with kept green grass. This is West Fifty-first, the upper-class estates. This is where the pampered and privileged are born and raised. Being here makes a person from way down the economic ladder feel like their big shit. It's like entering through the gates of the White House.

Booming bass is becoming far more audible as we near our point of destination. The obnoxious chitter-chatter of kids looking for an unforgettable night and beginning of their week-end long festivities ring in my ears – we're surrounded by a swarm of bodies all trying to migrate up yonder. Already, the atmosphere is commencing to clog up from the toxic smell of bud. Six packs amongst twelves bang against thighs as they're rocked back and forth.

Biting my lip, I turn around to see what's going on with the girls. They're gossiping away and sharing their desires for tonight, "Fannie…" I whisper.

Mike pulls me onto the sidewalk and we starts stomping through the lawn where a sea of people are all gathering. Fannie shouts, "What?" rather annoyed.

Shaking out of Mike's grasp, I pull my older sister aside and whisper, "Don't go around making an ass out of yourself, okay? Remember, you have to be a big girl and defend yourself when somebody makes you uncomfortable."

She scoffs, "What are you? My mom?"

As she starts walking away, I drag her back and bitterly spit, "_Pendeja_, don't start that shit with me. I'm trying to look out for your ass!" she rolls her eyes which forces me to bring down the house, "Listen, _hija_, stop tryin' to act all hard – I know what goes down when the _puto_ comes around, remember? I didn't almost go to juvie for nothing. Be conscious and be safe."

The incredulous look on her face contorts into a mix between rage and embarrassment. She opens her trap as if to say something but shrugs away my grip and power-walks into the house. Sighing, I head back to Mike.

_-11:54p.m-_

The party's in full swing. Talk about living rooms, that bitch could be a gym itself. The DJ spins, chops, and screws mixes bringing people into the inferno of clashing and grinding bodies, all of which have at least one dirty intention in mind. Some bitches have gone as far as standing atop tables and counters to strip for nothing but attention while guys enjoy their view from beer pong tables and over the top of their main squeeze's head. Forget about strobe lights, the disco ball that has woven in with the atmospheric smoke gives off the perfect party feel as people lay all over couches winding down to Molly, fix broken glass, or receive head.

Outside, it's total destruction. Fully clothed girls are dumped into, by the look of hardened nipples, freezing water as guys cannonball in. Crushed up beer cans and cups that held Purple litter virtually every square inch and maybe spill into the neighbor's lawn. A clan of douches have lit up a couple of tires building a bonfire. One would think that this is a college campus dorm party – not high schoolers gone wild.

A group of us have annexed a room in which we roll and spark up. We've been supplied with RX and don't plan on making any profits for the night.

"Has the 5-0 busted in yet?" inquires Joaquin stretching out on a bean bag.

Chucking a fresh dime bag at everyone in the room, Kirsten replies, "Don't know and I don't give a fuck!"

"Mike, you're rolling," I say as I drop down onto the comforter of the majestic king bed with a popped bottle of Hypnotic in hand.

_-1:19p.m-_

Gradually winding down from my euphoric state of mind, I welcome Mike's roaming hands over the expanse of my sensitized body not minding the four other souls in the body. Kirsten's languid moaning is an A-okay for us not to give a shit about their comfort level. The other two rabbits on the other hand have long passed out from their high.

"I wanna do you…so bad," breathes the hazel eyed boy into the crook of my neck.

Something about his breath caressing my skin evokes a giggle from somewhere inside my head, "Hm…?" I am too lifted.

The Brooks kid takes that as a signal to pursue his desire. He lays on top of me, inching up my skirt as his expert lips devour mine. While I am semi-aware of what's coming down, I don't intend on stopping. I may be young as shit but I feel better knowing that he has some experience under his belt. All that bull about waiting 'till marriage is a load – nobody wants a prude bitch.

_-1:31a.m-_

"Marleene…Marleene!"

Somebody, a girl, call out for me saving me from a near-blackout. I stop Mike in mid-thrust to listen more closely.

"Marleene, it's big!"

Pushing the boy off and out of me, I straighten out my skirt and lift up my top before stumbling out into the hall, "It's actually pretty small," I chuckle.

Hauling ass from down the hallway looking distressed, Micks berates me, "You dirty fucking bitch…quit your funnies! Your sister is-"

"A cunt bitch?"

Crazy-eyed, the distressed dirty blonde grabs my shoulders, "Earth to Marleene! Shut the fuck up and listen! Jack's girl, she roasted Fan in front of a crowd for having caught Jack trying to cop a feel!" at the end of every syllable, she gives me a shake for an extra measure which does nothing but disturb my stomach, "Come on, we ha-"

Desisting, I stand my ground, "I told that bitch…told her not to pull shit! Her problem. Now…now, let me go fuck…your brother," I shrug off her hands only to receive a balance breaking slap to the cheek, "The fuck?"

"It's your goddamn problem 'cus that bitch told the whole senior class that Fannie fucks her uncle!"

Double-taking, "Wait…what?"

"What you heard! The girl has barricaded herself inside the downstairs bathroom!"

Raging outwardly and inwardly, I kick a nearby vase and topple it over, "How the fuck did…? Goddamn! Take me to Fannie!"

_-1:56a.m-_

After stumbling all over the place in my drunken running spree and navigating through halls, stairs, and bodies, I finally stand in front of the bathroom where my dear ol' sis has confined herself. The current dilemma now is her ignoring my pleas for entry.

"Fannie Antonieta, _habre la puta puerta_!" I shout at the top of my lungs as nobody seems to see my struggle over the damn music, "Open the door, so help me Jesus, Mary, and Joseph…!" I rap on the door repeatedly, hoping that she'll get annoyed. No use, "I'm going to get in one way or another!"

Trying everything from begging to attempting to ram the bitch ass door down, I huff and puff before giving up. Various people have gathered around me; all of them needing to relieve themselves. A buff guy removes me and gets the job done himself.

Time after time, parents remind their offspring of the importance of school and being an educated individual. They say that everything we'll need in this life we'll learn at school. Well, the school's curriculum never included this…

A blood-curdling shrill emits from this mouth of mine. The reason being Fannie. Her body is slumped against the sink, discolored, with blood gushing from her neck and a bloodied straight-razor in a clasped hand. Her babydoll dress is tainted with the sanguine and it spreads. My knees give out from underneath me and I instinctively crawl to her and cradle her body. Part of me wishes that I'd paid attention in health class but nothing would've prepared me for such a scene.

"Fannie, honey, wake up!" I shriek, smacking her around to get her back into consciousness, "Wake up!" I hug her to my chest and cry, "Por que? Fan, why? Don't leave me!" my voice cracks from lack of breath, "I…I love you…Fannie, you bitch, come back…I love you so…" I shake her in hopes of having some sort of response. I swing around to face the gathered onlookers all owl-eyed in clear shock, "Y'all motherfuckers just gonna stand there? You bitches…you did…this!" I scream, "Call 911!"

_-2:03a.m-_

Feels like a minimum of ages before paramedics arrive on scene, along with a flurry of cops and shit. People have dispersed like cattle, trying to save their freedom. I still clutch Fannie's lifeless body without so much as a blink. Her blood has soaked through my shirt but I don't mind, not at all.

Sitting there, as medics and such incoherently speak to me, I question the cruelty of humanity. What kind of person outs a victim of such a despicable act? Why did God allow this to happen? Fannie was my sister…most importantly, my mother.

ΔΔΔΔ

Dropping the razor as if having a twitch, I shrivel up into fetal position and allow my pent up tears to come down. This isn't the way to resolve problems – no matter how difficult. Had Fannie known that, maybe she would've made it out alright. Been somebody, been a surgeon like she'd always dreamt of. Maybe she would've made me a better person.

Holding myself and shooing away thoughts and flashes, I allow my eyes to get some rest.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**- _There was a suicide epidemic. Suicide is a serious thing. If anyone is ever contemplating know that you're loved - you can find a friend in me, even. Thank you for the support and sorry for errors. _


	14. Escandalo

Hospitals, they are like prisons except they have medical staff. Every time I visit them, I get chills up and down my spine just by the fact that they contain dead corpses and house the mentally insane. Hospitals put me on edge – they test my fucking sanity. Especially now as I sit atop one of their cots that has been stripped to the point of it just being a plain old mattress. There's nothing to keep my brain exercised other than the twenty-eight inch TV and a curtain-less window. This is all Suicide Watch protocol…which is complete bull and making desperate with a mixture of annoyed.

Scratching my scarring cuts, I weave over to the door that keeps me confined and test it once more to prove a point: it's locked for the outside in. Observing the hall through the small window, I spy a nurse making her hourly rounds. Tapping my foot, I wait for her to be a few feet away before asking her, "Yo, Nance, could you please get me out of this godforsaken room?" trying to keep my cool. Last time, which was an hour ago, she at least shook her head. Right now, she completely disregards me and keeps about minding her own business as she scribbles something down on patient's charts. Raking a trembling hand down the contours of my face, "Fucking hell! Let me the fuck out 'fore I pull some crazy shit!"

Calmly U-turning all the way back to my "cell", Nancy holds her walkie-talkie to her mouth and says the following, in the most monotonous of tones, "This is Nurse Nancy, please send help. Patient Soto has threatened me with personal harm, I repeat, send help."

_Well that escalated rather quickly, Marleene._ Flooring, I yank at my hair, pointing at me and then her, baffled, "Que madres son estas? I…I just wanted to get outta here! Was that…fuck!" before I know it, two men barge into the room and hold me down like a cow that's about to be branded, "Hell no!" I struggle as soon as I see Nancy with a syringe in hand. In my lifetime, I did coke but never heroin – always too afraid of needles piercing my skin.

"Please, keep calm, Soto," she sighs as I inch away from her. Giving up, she just stabs it into my arm and within seconds, I'm done.

If anybody ever learns a thing or two from me, it's to never threaten people who're on the Suicide Watch dept. They don't take shit lightly.

They empty out of the room, leaving my numb body on the bed. All I feel is sluggishness. My mind wanders to the events that lead me to this barren dump of misery.

ΔΔΔΔ

_Earlier today…_

_-7:16a.m-_

Somewhere in the depths of my sub-consciousness, I can hear what sounds like Micks freaking out, "Oh my Jesus!" something shatters as she starts to hyperventilate, "Mar…Mar, are you awake? Mar!" _she's eaten a blonde…_

"Mm…?" I mumble as I wake up from my short lived sleep, wiping the spit that drips from the side of my mouth and groggily yawn.

"Stupid ass bitch!" she growls, and I scrunch up my face from the loudness, "I come here ready to apologize and…Fuck that!" she stomps out of my room and for a moment I believe she's done with her shit, "Hello, operator? Yeah, I need an ambulance or something…my friend has just attempted suicide…her arms are all slit up!"

Instantly, my mind awakens and I get to my feet faster than the speed of light and rush to the kitchen. Micks sees me and tries to fend me off like we're playing basketball. Either way, I get a hold of the phone as she tries to give the dispatcher or whatever vital info, "Ain't nobody try-"

A slaps makes me loosen my grip on the phone and Micks once again has it in her grasp, "Please, ma'am! Send somebody over!" with that she clicks and death glares me.

"What in the mothers of fuck!" I shout, losing myself.

"When we were younger, I was too stupid to do shit…not anymore. You may not see it but you need help!" she replies taking a hold of my bloodied arm.

Snapping my arm back, "Don't be a fucking idiot!" I can already feel a vessel in brain threatening to burst from my pent-up anger, "You're so, so, so fucking…lucky…lucky that I can't…be-" I open my mouth to finish the sentence but it's of no use, I'm fading to black.

_-7:34a.m-_

Waking up in what I suppose is the ER; I shrink back as a doctor cleans up my arm. An IV is attached to my arm and my head hurts like a whore. A nurse checks in with the doctor and then steps out into the waiting area, "Can the relatives of Marleene Soto please come over?"

As expected, my pregnant best friend wobbles in with Dominick, still in sleeping garb, both equally bawling their eyes out. I resist lashing out at the pair fearing repercussions, "How…how is she?" asks Dominick.

The doctor takes off his latex gloves and tosses them into the hazardous waste bin and goes over to the boy, "She's just got some boo-boos, son" and pats the munchkin's head, moving onto his upset mother, "Please, relax yourself, Mrs. Welsh. Marleene is just fine. I do ask, would you like us to keep her under close eye…in case she relapses?"

Sneaking a peak at me over the doc's shoulder, Mackenzie bites her lip and nods in slow motion, "For how long?"

Springing out of the bed, ripping out my IV in the process, I grabbed onto the doctor's lab coat, "No, no, no doc don't listen to her! I am a grown woman; I decide shit for myself!" he quickly reaches into his pocket for a cotton rag and places over my rapidly bleeding arm, "Please, I need to be able to go to work!"

"Nancy!" he shouts and a nurse rushes in, "Please give Mrs. Welsh the commitment form," my eyes roll to the back of my head and I'm out like light.

_-9:08a.m-_

"Well it's about time you rise and shine, sleepyhead!" exclaims an over-enthusiastic voice as I swim back into consciousness.

Raising my hands to my ears, "Shush, not so damn loud," I whine, "My poor head…" after a moment, I slowly open my eyes and am greeted by the sun and a curvaceous woman in nurse attire, "Am I in a porn?"

Giggling, the lady flips on the television and turns to me, "No, silly goose! I am Diane, your room attendee whilst Nurse Dells comes back from her break."

_Attendee? Fuck! _I put it on everything that is precious that once I'm out of this, Mackenzie Abigail Brooks-Welsh is a marked woman. I'd been here ages ago and know how the system works. It's a hellhole, "Hey, don't fall asleep!"

Taking in this beauty of a woman, something seems off. Not that she's deformed in any way but her face…it's oddly familiar, "What'd you say your name was?"

She points to her name tag, "Diane Muller, at your service!"

Chipper as she is, I can tell she's being pretentious. I observe her and put my finger on it. Diane Muller was one of those girls, the ones who pranced around school with their posses as if they owned the place. She was the cookie cutter bully one usually sees on teen flicks – the ones that win over guys with a flash of their smile. Diane was the school's most valuable baseball player's girlfriend. This curvy woman is the same bitch that killed my sister.

"You from around Romeoville, Diane?" I ask with the uttermost attention.

Shaking her head, "Nope. Was born and raised in Lockport, two miles away from here, but got a fellowship here in '98. Why?"

Shrugging, "Thought I saw you on the cover on some magazine…but I heard a crazy ass story about some girl killing herself at a party that year."

Shifting from right to left, Diane tenses up, "Yeah. It was so sad. One minute, I'm having a good time with some friends and then-boyfriend…next moment, the police barges in. People cleared out faster than a snap of a finger. This girl, Fancy? Something like that, is found dead with her sister sobbing," she shivers as though chilled, "Real, real nice girl, a slut but nice…"

That's all it takes to set of this TNT. I feel my body ablaze, "Her name was Fannie, bitch."

Taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"You heard me. If anyone deserves to remember her name, it's you. I'm her sister. I know every bit of shit that you said; you killed her. She may be dead and you…you will be in a minute!" I lunge full force at her. She screeches as we both sail onto the floor. My IV rips out of my skin causing nothing but pure fucking pain to shoot up my arm but I don't care. My fists pound away at this chick.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" shrieks the nurse that happens to stop in. Her clipboard smacks the floor as she runs out of the room and hails for back up. Men in white scrubs run in and try to pull me off of this sick bitch but I refuse to go without revenge; I've waited far too long for this moment. Thrashing and struggling, I strive to be free but that's when said nurse stabs a needle into my arm and I go limp from neck down.

As Diane's semi-conscious body is dragged out of my room, I roar, "Watch when I catch you up on the outside, hussy! I'll be sure to get the job done! Because of you, my sister, a motherfucking good person, is gone!"

_-9:22a.m-_

Still in a whirlwind, trying to plan out how exactly I'm going to find that bitch, I beat myself up for not getting the job done. The sedative is pretty damn strong as I'm barely regaining feeling in my arms. Directly in front of me my newly assigned nurse, Nancy. She flips away at a glossy magazine that's probably full of juicy gossip.

As I haven't gotten a proper introduction, I take her in. She's decent for a woman of her age. In the outside world you'd hear boys talk about her and men on the corner of liquor stores whistle as she'd stroll by. Her skin is like porcelain, flawless, with freckles that compliment her lily pad green eyes that hide behind her black framed glasses. Her curves have to be spot on. Other days, women wouldn't catch my eye. All this loneliness isn't doing me any good.

"Good, you're up," she speaks up and my lust is gone. Her voice could kill any growing desire, "Tell me what you're feeling, Soto. Anything, anger…hunger…anything."

Lacking spirit, I sight but remain calm hoping if I respond correctly…I'll earn myself a ticket home, "I feel peachy. I mean, save for the re…resentment," the word tastes bitter, "for what I did to…that woman." _How the hell's she gonna chew that when you can barely swallow it?_

Putting her pen back in her front pocket, Nancy stands up and starts towards the door, "Alright, try to relax. Dr. Humpstein will be checking up on you sometime today," she takes off and I am back where I started.

Giving up a lost fight, I lie down and think about nothing and everything, "Dr. Humpstein?" my body convulses with laughter as I repeat the ridiculous name. Five minutes later, tears of joy have become tears of pain and the just tears.

ΔΔΔΔ

"…can really give two shits about who you are! _No me conoces! Me vale verge, pinche doctor de cuarta_!" I growl, while two men try to keep a tight hold on me as I'm trying to claw out this joke of a doctor's eyes out of their sockets.

"Ms. Soto, you need to control yourself, please," his tone angers me even more. The man is talking down to me like one of his unstable patients! I thrash around and he resorts to a wack ass alternative, "Gentlemen, straightjacket the young Miss."

Humiliated doesn't even begin to cover how exactly I am feeling at the moment. I find the ceiling quite amusing; the only thing that's helping hold back infuriated tears. My breathing is labored, my brain is ready to turn into mush, and every vessel in brain is on the verge of bursting, "Can I…can I just go back to my room?"

"No. For me to even allow you to go anywhere after these seventy-two hours are up, you need to inform me…you need to let me know what's going on. I'm here to help but that's only if you'll let me," he comes around his mahogany desk and leans against the edge; I scoot back, "Come on, don't be afraid. Let's just get this over with."

Eyeing him carefully, I spot a strange connection between him and the actor in the old 007 flicks my old man used to watch in his free time. He isn't all that hard on the eyes either, maybe in his late thirties, "Untie me."

He removes the jacket and goes back to his previous position, "Just say what you were doing prior to being admitted."

Should I? _Yes…no…fuck it! _Entering my seductress state of mind, "Well, I dunno…I might've been thinking about how lonely I am," I inch closer to him, basically whispering into his ear, "So lonely…" I lean into him so he can feel my warmth through the paper-thin hospital issued sack, "Anybody ever tell you how closely you resemble Sean Connery, in his early years?" he shakes his head, obviously bewildered by my actions, "Well you do…maybe a tad bit more attractive. I dunno, maybe it's your eyes," my nails ghost over his knee and fingers land on his thigh, "You got a wife?" I ask with half-lidded eyes and he nods, "What a shame, really…" I slide my hand sinfully over his fly, "Shameful 'cus now I can't…" I angle in on his lips. The man is like a puppet under my control. Soon as his hands touch me, I pull away, "That's just a sneak peek, doc. Next time may be your day…"

Turning on my heel, I sashay out the door, making sure to show off what he could have, leaving the quack dumbfound… probably high and dry as well. This is how desperate I am to gain my liberty.

"Hey you…!" yells one of the men I now know a security personnel.

"Calm you balls, Chuck. Take me back to my cell, will ya'?"

"It's Mark," he forcibly latches onto my wrist but I pull away.

Wringing my wrist, "I know the way, _no soy perra_, Chuck. I'd just get in deeper trouble if escape even crosses my mind."

"Mark…"

"Yeah, whatever floats your boat…Chuck."

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _Woo...that was a toughy. I'm thinking you guys will enjoy the next couple of chapters as I'll work on developing Marleene...and who she is and was. Keep up the support!_


	15. Catalyst

Mid-_fucking_-day. It's midday and there's no sign of food in the horizon. I swear on Grandma Dolores's grave that I am about to pass out from lack of nourishment. Poor Mr. Tummy is crying out to me and my lips are chapping in dire need of H2O. I'm jittery all over – been pacing the entire perimeter of my cell.

"Soto, I'm your room attendee, Nancy. Stay still and face the window because I will be entering the room shortly," announces my prettylil' ginger.

Rolling my eyes, "What, am I a menace to society now?"

"Do as I say," commands the nurse in a fiercer tone and I oblige without further discussion. The lock rotates and her footsteps sneak up behind me. Her hands begin to pat me down.

"What in the…?" I blurt, squirming away from her touch, "Fuck you trying to do?"

Sighing, she replies, "Hospital is looking into joint lunch between patients on this floor. Calm yourself, I have to check for anything before Chuck arrives and escorts you to the cafeteria."

Sinking to my knees, I outstretch my arms skyward, "Praise the Lord!" I wipe my eyes as though I might actually shed a tear: desperation.

Sometime between my praising of the Lord and attempting to humor my pokerfaced nurse, Chuck arrives. This ward has really cracked down on the rules since my previous stay, half a decade ago. These people know how to make a patient feel like a death row jail mate.

Writing me off, Nance shoos me off as she nonchalantly throws herself onto my bare bed and pulls up an Us Weekly magazine out of her scrubs.

Scrambling off the floor, I quickly dust myself off and head towards the door. Something tells me that this is a twisted trick they do to amuse themselves. I am halfway out the door before it hits me. The only thing saving my grace is a wafer thin hospital issued smock. Say what you will, I'm a whore that has a sense of self-preservation, "This isn't what I'm being sent out in, right?"

The guard clad in white shrugs and continues to tap his foot. Slipping my head into my room, I glimpse in on my attendee engrossed in her magazine as her foot dances away. Clearing my throat, she side glances my way, "What'dya want, Soto?"

"Clothes that cover my ass."

She licks her index finger, flips the page, and candidly replies, "Can't. Against hospital protocol…" closing my eyes in despair, I mentally finish the sentence for her: those on the Psyche floor aren't allowed items that can, potentially, be used against themselves or others.

Even so, I choose to whine, "Pity me, Nance!"

Never leaving her weekly issue, "Already do," her finger slides across the glossy page as she mouths words, "Can you just cross that bridge? This is my break and quite frankly, I've got better things to worry about."

_That_, that sets me the hell off, "And I'm here because this obviously is a five star hotel!" I reenter the room, "All you gotta do is be fucking pleasant and spare me five minutes and get a robe or something!" usually there'd be some throwing off shit but the room is barren, "Get off your damn ass, _puta_!" as I inch closer, clenching and unclenching my fists, I notice that the nurse has already secured a grip on her handy-dandy walkie-talkie. This usually, always, calls for body numbing sedatives. I've learned the hard way, "Okay, okay…easy, girl, easy…" I throw up my hands in defeat, "I give up; white flag."

"Give up the clown act," her lily pad green eyes return to her issue and a finger lifts up to beckon Chuck and I'm ushered out, dejectedly.

ΔΔΔΔ

If there's ever an acceptable reason to be afraid of women it should be because they're lunatics. Not just any type of lunacy- legitimately crazy. I say this because upon entering the cafeteria for lunch, my first encounter with said women occurs.

The guard I've come to know as Chuck releases me into the general population and I bee line my butt to the lunch line where I'm smashed between two butches and handed a beat-up tray. Minding my business, I just float through the line overhearing unintelligible conversations here and there until I happen upon a certain one that seemed, by my judgment, to be escalating. It does. Two women start off with simple shoves and end up brawling it out. It leads to a prison-like riot and the guards struggle to maneuver around the chaos.

Hiding behind where the servers are, I peek out to see if I can get a glimpse of Chuck as the commotion is going on. It feels like I'm in combat or some shit. A hand snatches my arm and I shriek alarmed to find that it's the man I was looking for. He puts a finger to his lips and throws me over his shoulder like a ragdoll and carries me to safety.

Breathing heavily, as this ride is giving me motion sickness, I look around to see that we're passing other captive's cells and I immediately feel naked as I forgot the round trip would include passing through the men's psych wards. My hands fly to the back of my hospital issued garment that's flayed open in the back. I scour around and see beady eyes all around, "Was this really the only route back to my holding cell?"

Mark disregards me as he shouts at one of the guys. _What's up with these people ignoring you?_ I shrink back in as the men start peeping out their holes. It's not an exaggeration when I say that hospitals are a fuck lot like prison.

"Hey girly, give Daddy a twirl!" calls out a man from one of the rooms which sparks a choir of cat-calls and wolf-whistles.

"Just a sneak peek!" shouts another.

"Chuck get me the fuck out of here!" I whisper loudly.

Off we are, passing by the Nurse's Station where one of those pink scrub-wearing, dimwits lets both Chuck and I know that my bitch nurse has been expecting me. Chuck stomps all the way to my room and deposits me before checking in with Nance and promptly takes his leave.

Ignoring all of the ginger's nonsense, I splay myself on the bed and stare up at the ceiling and bask in the setting sun. There's nothing to do, other than watch the TV. There's a reason why people lose their marbles in this shitbag.

"Soto, you've got visitors…" announces my attendee.

I angle my head, surprised that she's still here, "If this is your way of getting a sick thrill…you're a sick fucking bitch."

An itty-bitty gasps escapes, "Auntie Marley, rememba', no bad words!"

My body stills, pupils dilate, and tears rise. In a heartbeat, I'm up and over the mattress trying to fly across to the only tiny human who calls me that. My ass topples over my own to legs in my mad dash but I don't care. I am at eye-level with my Dominick. Before I know what overcomes me, my arms trap the child and I am sobbing like an idiot. Seeing him, even if it's been less than a day, relieves me. It hits me like mud bricks, I am really fucking lonely.

"Auntie, you're crushin' me!" he giggles.

Sniffling and giggling, "I…I am sorry, _papi_. I just…just missed you so much."

Recognizing my reddened eyes and streaming tears, his perky demeanor tones down to serious, "Don't cry, Auntie," his puny fingers dab away my tears. My insides mush up – the kid's oblivious to the fact that his ever loved "Auntie" is nothing but a two cent hooker.

"I know, I know…" I shake myself, "How'd you wake up this morning, _mi cielo_?"

Tapping his chin, "It was terrible!" he throws up his hands to emphasize.

Furrowing my brows, "Why's that?"

"Mommy," Micks pokes her head in as if he'd called her, "cried and cried and cried. Worse of all, she wouldn't tell me where you were!" he crosses his arms, clearly disgruntled, "Why are you here 'stead of with Mommy and me?"

From my point of view, the Brooks sibling strikes me as restless, cryptic almost. Her eyes give the impression that she's been crying endlessly. Her arms carry a stack of notebooks – bad, bad, bad for the kid and her back. I glare at her and return to Dom's somber eyes, "Believe me, Corazon, I'd love to be with you back at the house. Right now though, I need help," I shoot Micks another dirty stare, "I have to be here for some time.

"Are you sick?" he questions, wide-eyed.

Shaking my head incessantly, "No, no, no…It's just a grown-up thing."

Dominick embraces me tightly, slightly knocking my balance, "Please get better. I need your help with my wishlist, Auntie."

Shit. How could I have forgotten? Christmas is just around the corner. _How could you forget, Mar? That money you've earned has all flowed into the bills?_ How am I going to fork up enough money to buy the kiddo a decent stack of presents – he deserves them, "Don…don't worry. I'll be out before you know it," I look over at the blonde at the door who looks anxious, "Give me a hug, _cielo_. I have to talk to your mommy," he squeezes me once more, "Now, walk over to the where all the pretty nurses are and ask them question…they might give you a sticker."

"Really?" he asks sparked up and I nod, "Cool! Bye Auntie, get better soon!" he scats out the door.

Lifting off my knees, I stroll over to the door and motion for my best friend to enter before I close the door. I exhale and ask, "What'dya want? I know you didn't cab it all the way here to please Dom."

Sauntering over to the giant window, I look out into the city. It hit me that I am being held captive at Silver Cross…a somewhat shitty hospital in Illinois. No matter how shitty, the bill will be worse.

"Please don't be mad," she says trying to touch me but I reject her, "You need help, Marleene! I did what I thought was best," she goes on but realizes that I'm not having any of it, "How…how can you cut yourself to shreds when my kid is in the house? Don't you at least give a shit about him?"

"I do. That's why I do what I do."

She splutters, "You…you're putting wood in the fire by degrading yourself like that!" her breathing is labored. I can count every single one. It's ticking me off.

"Tell me," I spin around, "Enlighten me, sweetie. How far can I go on a fucking high school diploma? There's nothing that's open for me!" I point to myself, "I don't have a support system. The whole household is supported by me."

"Not once have I asked you to do that for me!" she shouts, bittersweet tears dripping onto her tummy as my anger fires up.

"Are you fucking kidding me now?" a cynical chuckle escapes my mouth, I'm so infuriated it's funny, "Who's gonna put food on the table, pay the bills? You going to bum around 'till Ace magically appears?" I take a minute to breathe clean air into my lungs, "Stop being so naïve, open your damn eyes!" I stretch out my own, "Ace…he can't have you on his mind. He can't worry. He's in a war zone!" my body, mouth included, is trembling, "After Noah…after he…this?" My hands dig into my hair, "Be very fucking ashamed. I myself am ashamed. My body has been overrun by grimy, slimy hands – it's a piece of money making meat! Wha…what would my father say?" my voice become an airy shriek, "Mackenzie, did you think this fucking stay was going to be a freebie? You might be covered on all side but me? You don't think. _That's _just it…_no piensas_!"

The lone sound of panting sounding like there's been crazy sex fills the room. I'm above livid – probably on my way into the waters of unconsciousness. The baby incubator silently cries. There's silence, uncomfortable, silence."

"I am sorry," she mutters. I make an attempt to interrupt her but her hand silences me, "Don't," she drops the notebooks onto my bed, some spill over, "For your entertainment. Get better."

Micks trudges out the door, leaving it open. With objects actually in the room, I throw them every which way. It's like whatever. Fuck that bullshit. Fuck the rain that has drizzled in. Fuck everything.

Snatching a notebook marked as _'98_, I test my luck and set an unaccompanied foot outside the door and snake my way down the hall. As luck'll have it, the Nurse's Station blocks my destination. Feeling a bit badass, I saunter by them, hearing gasps along the way, "I'm in the brig for attempted suicide. Unbunch your panties," with that I drift into the Family Waiting Room and sit down.

_Let's see what you wrote! _Licking a finger I flip the notebook open and start deciphering my old sloppy handwriting: memories.

ΔΔΔΔ

_June 17th, 1998…_

They say, "With a dark night comes a brighter day." Where is it? I don't see one coming anytime soon.

It's been a fucking week since I discovered Fannie is that fucking bathroom. Following arriving at the hospital, she was pronounced dead. Cutting the carotid artery causes sudden death. Uncle Vidal, Caro, and Pops had driven in. All looked like they'd hastily upped outta bed and gotten into the car. It was devastating to witness the moment that the doc told them of Fan's death.

Today was her funeral. An exact week after so Pops could afford the wake and everything in between. It was an open casket. She looks absolutely pale. As I walked by, I could still imagine the blood the oozed from her. Never had I seen Pops break like he did. I had to cover Caro, she's too innocent. He damned me as he was escorted out by Uncle.

Friends along with almost the entire school population lit candles as her casket was lowered. The most hypocritical was that even after her death, parties kept coming.

Estella, my mother, made an appearance. I threw her out. She kept protesting about how Fannie was her "baby" and such. I had none of it. None. It'll probably be the last time I ever see that lady alive: skin, bones, and tracks.

Diane Muller. That bitch has a red _X _marked on her back. She's the one I'm after. That she-devil fucked everything up. If not for her, Fannie would be alive. Dad wouldn't shame me. Caro wouldn't be a selective mute. Nobody would give me funky stares every time I can around.

If I'd been quicker. If.

Everybody tries to console me. It's of no use. Micks tries to pull shit out of me and Elle tries to shoplift things for me hoping that materialistic things will comfort me. Punk is out of the picture. He hasn't called. Mike tries to fuck me into oblivion. People supply me with booze and drugs. Razors cut up my arms…nothing works.

I've gotta go. There's a Fannie memorial party and there's a Jimmy with my name written all over it waiting.

_-Marleene_

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_What? Did you guys catch that? Keep the love coming in! These notebooks will keep our Marleene sane!_


	16. Reunion

_August 24th, 1998…_

I'm back from my little hospital stay and just arrived in time for my second day of sophomore year! With any luck I'll return without any of those pretentious "I miss you" from bitches that didn't even bother to hit me up all summer to see how I was holding up. Though since pretty much Illinois in its entirety knows about my sister, thanks to the Daily Herald making her dead a headliner, I'll probably be cut a shitload of slack; it'll work to my advantage.

Pops is a ways off center. He's the reason for my recent hospital imprisonment. Threatened to beat the daylight out of me should he be called at work for more scar issues. The _one_ time he _speaks _to me, he fucking threatens me. Not only _that _but he actually smashed my face in while spitting every and any degrading word in the book. It'd been brutal but I, in my heart, know I'd deserved every ounce of pain. In his fury he admitted wishing that it'd been me. He obviously blames me for the loss of his star child, as do I. She wasn't as expendable as me.

Uncle Vidal, he had to fight my father off; he was beating me into unconsciousness. That man is my security blanket. He baked a cake for me since I'd spent my birthday amongst troublesome teen and scumbags.

She stays on my mind. Fannie. Not a flash, not a moment, not a daydream – she's everywhere. She terrorizes me at anytime of the day; whether I'm awake or half-asleep. Fannie constantly asks me why I didn't save her. At times, it's as though I can feel her presence. When I cut, I envision her blood running down my arms. Maybe I'm losing touch with reality – I don't know.

I'm terrified at the thought of waking up at midnight to see that Caro hanging from the fan in our room, or going into the bathroom and catching her down a bottle of meds. She's my only living sibling, the one I was closest to. Chaparra doesn't utter a single word, not even a nod. She doesn't function; her body goes rigid when I try to pull on her clothes or bathe her. I think she's afraid of me.

My life is crashing down. I'm really just living on a dead line. Punk would make me feel – he'd see me through. He hasn't hit up my line – not even a fucking letter. It's almost as though he vanished off the face of the world. He promised that we could've made it work…we could've. Maybe people were right, maybe I shouldn't feel guilty for screwing his brother, maybe I was just another spoke on his wheel…maybe.

Life sucks dragon balls.

_-Marleene_

ΔΔΔΔ

Guilt. There's a reason I kept this stack stowed away with Mackenzie and it is guilt. They reveal a part of me I always wished to lock away. I did just that when Noah came around. Now after flipping through aged pages, my past has come to life. It sounds dramatic but it did. These pages resurfaced withered emotions. They, somehow, revived my inner-guilt over Fannie's death. 1998 was a whirlwind. I've unlocked Fannie. If and when I keep reading, I'll probably relive more buried feelings and memories.

_What about Punk?_ That's what fucks me. Wes mentioned it at the parlor months ago. Could it be Phil the one who goes by 'Punk' or some other jerk-off that I decided to nickname that? Chances are that I'd remember, I'm only twenty-two…I can't be going senile, can I?

A faint knock trips me out of my musings; I turn to see an elder woman with a clipboard standing in the doorway, "You must be the escapee."

Shoving my notebook aside, I sit up, "And you're…?"

The old lady languidly strolls over to the chair beside the lamp, "Dr. Azalea, I prefer Betty as if keep me feeling not a day of sixty," she responds, shooting me a coy smile.

"Marleene, they call me Soto 'round here so…feel free?"

She chuckles, "One of those twits sent me here. The cluster was on edge about having a patient roaming around unattended," her brown eyes rake over me, "You seem rather harmless, save for those fresh wounds…"

I look at what she's talking about and quickly cover them, "Suicide attempt they deemed it,"

_Maybe talking about Fannie will keep you from licking those wounds. _Twiddling around with my thumbs, I sit as Betty looks on. Maybe I should just spill the beans. She's a shrink; she probably sees right through me. That's all quacks and shrinks do: analyze. Should I?

The clock chimes announcing that it's six, "I've got a clear schedule, dear. You seem like you need to talk," as I said, they have x-ray vision or something.

"It's kind of a long story…"

"I just told you, clear schedule."

_You're paying for their service either way! _Checking outside the hallway for any unwanted attention, I exhale, "Okay, It was just supposed to be another party, maybe a little more since it was the celebration of graduating, finally, high school. I…I never expected that with a couple words from some stupid bitch, my sister would end up dead by the end of the night…"

My mouth keeps opening, regurgitating bits and pieces of truth, sometimes only stopping so my lungs can cling onto some oxygen, or tears to be brushed away. I rant for what seems like years, millenniums, and though I never rely on people outside my inner circle, pouring my heart out to Betty is like second nature. She listens, nods, listens, and doesn't judge. Nothing is going out the other ear either. Finishing, I'm a wreck: heaving to catch my breath and sobbing because there's no alcohol.

"Sweetheart, it's important for you to understand that whatever happened that night wasn't at your will. Everyone dictates their life and choose paths that will affect them later on. Your sister's choice wasn't in your hands. We can't live in 'What if's', we have to grieve and move on," the doctor waits for me to check myself, "Let's try an exercise, yes? You'll write a letter, no length requirement, to your sister. You can say anything and everything you want: feelings, memories, etc," she hands me her clipboard and pen, "I'll give you as long as you need. In the meantime, I'll be giving these jumpers a piece of my mind…I was enjoying my all-time favorite, _Casablanca_," she huffs and leaves me with a gentle smile.

Staring after her, I drum the pen on the pad. This is stupid, useless, and stupid but I follow along…doctors know best after all.

ΔΔΔΔ

"Is this some kind of hospital-style prison break?" I ask the shrink as she leads me through yet another "Employee Only" doorway, "Are you even a certified shrink or just an escaped whack job?" I ask grown impatient as she keeps putting off my queries. We're finally outside; the brisk air that hits me almost makes me forget how to breathe, "Are you going to kidnap me?"

As we slip through employee vehicles, Betty comes to an abrupt halt and leans against a silver Buick; catching her breath, "You…you ask a lot of question, dear," her hand snakes into her pocket making keys jangle until they make contact with the car door and unlock it. _Old lady's packin'! _She slides onto the driver's seat and unlocks the passenger's, "I usually don't sneak off with patients but those damned nurses always follow procedure and protocol…I'd have to wait, wait, wait, and wait. I surely am not getting any younger so we're on the wild side, dear. We're personally delivering that letter of yours to your sister. Now, get in!"

Look at her with an expression of "What the fuck?", I roll around the car and get in either way. Senility has a way of getting to us, "My sister's dead, Doc."

The car backs up and we're off. To where? I don't really care, anywhere is much more preferable than that rotten room, "I know, dear. I should be more specific, we're going to her grave."

Hell to the no! In a haste effort to break out of the moving vehicle, Betty autolocks it. I'm hyperventilating, sitting with a feeling of restraint. It's upsetting. Going to the grave where my sister is resting. Her body is probably beyond decomposing…just a bunch of well preserved bones that maggots nibble on. The thought is what keeps me from visiting her. Last time I paid her a visit was just before Dad and the fam-bam upped and outted…four years ago.

"Do tell me which cemetery it is…"

"Oakwood," I manage to whisper.

Roads converge and diverge as we keep near our destination. I just take in the scenery that races by me and try not to feel a guilt ridden and disgusted with myself as I do. Outside this glass, snow flurries about replacing the dew or freezing it. Dr. Azalea blasts some rather _nifty _tunes on the radio while drumming away on her steering wheel. The air isn't awkward as I thought it should be.

"This will set you free, child," she murmurs taking a left entering the rusty golden gates of Oakwood Cemetery.

"I don't think I deserve that luxury...I'm tainted. That's what got me in that ward. Out in the real world, Doc, I'm a two cent whore. I tried to write myself off because of that…because I have nobody. Remembering her, finding her, holding her ruined it…"

Betty sighs, "You're guilty because you're angry that she besmirched you."

Shaking my head, "I'm angry because…I'm living without direction…I dunno…"

The car yields, "Whatever it is, doing this will free you and let you move on. Where is her grave?"

Nnn

Shaking and shivering, I wave of Dr. Azalea and plant myself directly in front of Fannie's tombstone. Moss has grown around the edges and the faux rose Pops set down for her all those years ago still remains, "The day this rose dies is they day I'll stop missing you," Dad had said.

Trembling hands unfold my letter and I begin to recite it because pneumonia doesn't sound like an awesome way to go, "He…hey, Fan. How are you, baby girl? I…I miss you so…from here to the moon and back," tilting my head skyward as to avoid letting my tears fall on her resting place, "Seven years have come and gone, Fannie. Seven. Some days, it's easier to think you exist somewhere where you could only wish to live, somewhere like Florida. Other days…Noah was there to help me get through. Micks kept those notebooks. I wanted to forget you," I cover my mouth with disgust at what I've just said, "All I wanted to do was have fun and get bat shit wasted! I…I should've saved you! I should've…but I didn't it!" tears spill uncontrollably, "I am wholeheartedly sorry, baby girl. So, so, so, so sorry," minutes pass by as I keel over, a sobbing mess. I cry 'till my ducts dry up, I cry 'till I'm numb and sober, "Maybe if I ever see you again, I'll kneel at your feet and ask for forgiveness. I miss you, Fannie. I love you so fucking much. I appreciate all that you did for us, for me. You've done your part, rest up. Caro…she's not mute anymore. The rascal popped out two muffins out of that oven," I caress the tombstone, "You're probs rolling over but she's a great kid…she's almost have the brainiac you were. And Pops…he, he forgave me. Little birdies told he's got a girl under his arm," I manage a teary laugh, "Uncle V is still doing himself…we're fine. We'll be fine," I observe the eerie environment in wonder. Is my sister even listening to my incessant blubbering?, "And me? I'm trying to let you fly…you'll set me free. Don't you ever think I'll scrap you out…whenever I pass by all the places we roamed and played together…no, you'll be with me," I kiss her tomb, "I love you. We were never close but I love you, always and forever."

Hopping off my shivering knees, I stare at her grave once more before heading back. For a moment, a second, I swear I feel somebody lightly place their hand on my shoulder, for moment. I feel the feather-light weight of force. Be it a figment of my imagination or reality - it doesn't matter. The world is a mystery. Cemeteries in my mind were always a portal between this dimension and the unknown. A smile, a true one, graced my face. Though tears still drip no longer was my blood going to. Not for the reasons it did anyway. Empowered, I felt that I was gonna be able to look at the world differently…or at least have one less demon walking next to me.

Was this some mopey dopey corny shit? Yes. Did it help? No…at least not right now. Will I get over this bump in the road? I have to.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Revelations! Eh, i feel like this is a filler... then again, Fannie was a big part of Marleene. Sorry if it ended off corny but our girl is going loco!_


	17. Me Volvi Acordar De Ti

It's officially the dawn of another day…number two. My body shook awake from a nightmare. That's the least of my bottomless dilemmas. I've awoken from them since the first day a client scraped his putrid fingers along by body. On the bright side, it's fucking snowing! They day's fresh, one problem…many more to go.

My stomach growls, vibrating against my hand, "Where's the food?" I whine, quietly. I highly doubt I'll be out anytime soon, especially after that wonderful integrated lunch yesterday.

"I am hungry," I sing as I mush my face on the door window while knocking a beat, hoping that the nurses or my morning attendee will hear and not turn a blind eye.

"Soto," come my favorite monotonous voice from down the hall, "are you asking for yet another sedative?"

Considering she's an older woman and a distance away, I shout, "No but you could put on a sexy maid's outfit, a lovely tone of voice, and a plate of food."

Nancy drags closer, in my line of vision, apparently checking patients and what not, "This isn't a five star hotel. I am not humored by you. We follow rules and regulations and one of the clearly doesn't permit food in the rooms for sanitary purposes," she scribbles some more and walks back from where she came from, "Read, sleep… just don't kill yourself. I am on my second shit and definitely won't appreciate a hang up."

Oh the audacity! What runs through this chick's head? Am I in this starvation camp because I'm a bulimia case? My temper has flared, "Come back! If I thought of this shithole as a goddamn five star stay I'd gone through half of the hotel staff by now!" my shouting tones out her footsteps, "Bitch come back!" seeing as she's off, punch the door, "Bitch!" I growl. I've no intention on offing myself but my stomach is contemplating.

Sliding down the door, I crawl over to my notebooks. Figuring out more about this "Punk" character will quench my thirst for curiosity and distract my hunger, "November ninety-seven?" I guess I'll be hopping back a couple of months.

ΔΔΔΔ

_September 12th, 1997_

Happy Belated Birthday, Micks!

Skipping the meaningless school drama, Pops let me off the hook and even shoved me out the crib so I could celebrate the big day with my girls. It was Micks' big one-five!

For the special occasion I determined that I would tone it down so Micks would outshine everybody, it was her day after all. I donned my brand new flannel shirt, wife beater, stonewashed jeans, and scuffed Doc Marten's that my lovely _Tio_ gave me for my birthday. I trust that I didn't come off as some type of floozy. I guess I've finally figured out why those ghetto ass girls at school detest me: I don't follow their norms of assimilating myself with their streetwalker chic or their incomprehensible ghetto dialect. Plus, it doesn't help that I'm more developed than most freshmen these days; it doesn't do me any good just gets me lusty, unwanted leers.

Regardless, Elle cruised into the driveway with her daddy's shitty ass whip. Her plan actually followed through. It felt pretty badass riding, unrestricted by seatbelts, blasting jams with my chicks: Micks, Dez, Piper, and Natalie –who really is more of an acquaintance- I would've shoved Fan our way but she's a buzzkill these days.

Mokena, apparently, was the place to be. The Brooks' brothers, who aren't ever around, were putting on a show with some of their guys. They're kind of a big thing out here. I would've been a fan but I've never once been to an indie wrestling show – except when it's on my TV. Micks also added Mike's presence and I was down for the count – he's a heartthrob.

We figured it was early so we detoured in a comfy Mom and Pop's pancake house. God will surely forgive but my thighs won't. The girls pitched in for my sorbet 'cus I'm broker than a joker – they're the best. We ended up making a thirty minute trip an hour power drive all because we couldn't hold off our gossip.

Moving on, we got to the big picture and it was swamped! Security oozed out of every entrance and was on the verge of not letting us in – all minors except Elle – but thanks to Elle's quick wit – showing her tits – we passed through without further hassle. The place was unhinged. Dim lights skirted around the outlines while obnoxiously bright spotlights illuminated the ring. It was a male dominated hotspot: they took over pool tables, crowded the bar, and cheered or jeered on the current combatants. The inescapable scent of cigarette smoke and beer permeated the air. Tone down the noise and it was a rather chill environment.

As we crowded a table, I spot a group of hoochies from school hopping all over a _shirtless _Mike's dick. The sight made me pull the girls out of their chairs and towards the ring to check out all the commotion. Our height played out in our favor; we were able to weasel through bodies and be up close.

Inside the ring was a bleached blonde dude, probably in Elle's age range, going up against a meaty brunette. It was a bit disheartening 'cus Blondie seriously looked outmatched! Visualize a jackrabbit being put in a chokehold by a brown bear. By the end though, I was rooting for Blondie. What can I say; I have a thing for underdogs – especially cute ones. Plus, he was pretty agile and charismatic. Micks and the posse seemed amused by my enthusiasm – they should check out Mondays with Pops, Uncle V, and me. The climax of the match came around when Grizzly low-blowed Blondie. Grimaces filled the crown as men tingled and groped their family jewels. The girls and I decided to bounce while Elle and Micks hung around to play groupie.

Grown men dropped by offering unsolicited drinks and lusty leers sprucing up our game of pool. Banter and laughter ensued until I caught wind of a certain bleach blonde with his arms around both Brooks' sisters. My heart almost went into cardiac arrest, but I feigned being absorbed into our game while keeping an eyeball fixated on Blondie. He was a mighty fine piece of ass – for my standards – I dug his tats which weren't generic but odd: a Pepsi logo on his shoulder, a cobra on the other, and "Straight Edge" semi-circled around his lean stomach. As they crept closer, I lost myself in those eyes…beautiful. They had a certain resemblance, the bunch.

"I hope that blow didn't make you sterile, kid," sniggered Elle and her younger sister barely contained her own laughter.

The tattooed guy shot them both a scornful glare, "I'll make sure to test that on Natalie tonight, sickos," he replied, sending a suggestive wink over to Natalie. Dez and Piper giggled at Natalie's expense. The poor girl just bowed her head in embarrassment. The sisters gagged and I woah'd.

"Phillip Jack, your disgusting," muttered Micks, "You too, Natalie, I see you!"

Elle nodded in agreement, "Little bro, you're far too expressive for your own good."

He was unrecognizable. It had been years since I saw Phil or Punk as he liked to be called. He and Mike rarely ever came home during the hours I'd visit or they'd be engaged in training or knocked out. Their parent knew how to do it, no doubt about that.

Punk blew them a raspberry and dismissed their comments as she went over to greet us and sling an arm around Nat, "Ey, I don't throw you shit about anything," he directed a finger a Elle, "and you've got quite a record, _Eleanor Elizabeth_."

"Bitch!" grunted said sister before she started on her manhunt.

Punk took off, "No quite!" he shouted as he laughed, even _that _was endearing. One thing led to another and I put myself, unbeknownst, in his way. His body collided with mine causing be to topple over…well almost, he caught me. There I was, eyes shut tight expecting a concussion. I opened my eyes when nothing happened and saw his greenish-brownish-goldish eyes and died, internally, "I am so sorry."

"Uh ye…yeah. Okay," I stuttered out. Thinking back on it, I feel like a fucking ass hat.

That stare he gave me was time stopping, not even exaggerating. His sweaty arms were still connected to my body. It was…I can't put my finger on it. All that starts has to end, somebody beckoned for him, "I…uh…I have to go. Again, I'm sorry. I…I'll see you…?"

"Marleene."

He acknowledged me once more before planting a kiss on Nat and whispering something in her ear; his sisters hugged him and wished him well.

My poor ears didn't hear the end of their fucking jokes, quips, and laughter. All was shits and giggles save for a sour-faced Nat that announced her moving away later on – it sunk our happy ship. We stuck around for Punk's match though. I don't wanna be conceited but…he'd glance my way every chance he got. Yeah, I consider myself a special bitch. How he went undetected beats me.

I'm off 'cus I'm about to pass the fuck out!

_-Marleene_

_November 3rd, 1997_

Boys, they really do have a way of getting my panties in a bunch. Some are just overgrown children, with their antics and shit. If I were miraculously to turn into a lesbian, I'd be thankful – I'd get to avoid these problems. Yeah, boys push my buttons. Especially those Neanderthals who put try to put dibs on you. Last time I checked, women were out of suffrage years ago – we're free to do as we please.

Who am I complaining about? Simple, Alfredo Reinosa aka the guy who I specifically proposed a "friends with benefits" agreement to. I thought I made it was sublime. I mean, these days I rather have a cordless phone than deal with the constrictiveness of landlines. Since I'm ranting, I was wrong, oh so wrong. With Fredo, you give a guy a side glance and you're already being slick. I thought guys liked that un-clingy shit!

Today while waiting for Fredo's laggin' ass by the benches downstairs, Punk dropped by. Well, he saw me and stuck around since he was waiting on Micks, he had the car. We just started off with small talk and gravitated to his birthday bash last Saturday and how bomb it was – the sisters planned it out for him and threw it down in Mokena. Why lie, he could've talked about apple and I'd be fully interested. He's an attractive guy and has a way of expressing himself. Punk's different. Different in the way he enjoys his free time: instead of get drunk out of his shit, he wrestles or goes to those punk/rock concerts, wrestles, and buries himself in games and comics. He walks to the beat of his drum – categorizes himself as a Straight Edge: he'll forever be a virgin to the bottle and methamphetamine. Punk's a breath of fresh air. It's nice to have somebody of the opposite gender willing to kick rocks with you without necessarily wanting your goodies. He's a cool cat.

Here's me pretending that nobody will ever read this: I like the guy. Far more than physical but lesser than love. We've chatted up a couple of nights since his sisters drag me along for his show. Safe to say we've hit it off. I get his asshole charm and humor and can follow along with his discussions. He digs my artistic side, book worminess, and enthusiasm for the sport he loves. Love at first sight is a bowl of shit but whatever I feel comes close; call it "Attraction at first sight". Thing is, he doesn't bring out the awkward in me; usually it comes out around people I barely know.

Leaning back to the story: we're just giggling and fucking around when my FWB rolls through giving me a nasty glare like I've killed his dog or something. Within seconds his arms are around me and lips sucking my face off. It was em-ba-rra-sing. He was groping me while Punk lingered pretending like nothing was going on! Being the dignified girl I am, I pushed him off and muttered that he should hold it off for later. The dude came off all intense about it asking what I was trying to hide and the whole fuck…like really? We're just messing around; I'm not your girlfriend…really?

Things go from A to motherfuckin' Z in a second. He had the nerve to push me and go off on me. The scene itself raked in students and faculty that were trying to get out and home and they stopped to watch some bastard belittle the girl who specified him as a friend with certain benefits! Things catalyzed once the word "cunt" spilled out his mouth. Unbelievable.

Call me the whole alphabet in cuss words but "cunt"? He kisses his grandmamma with that mouth? It shot me up through the roof, Punk got riled up as well. I felt disgusted at the fact that Fredo was going Verbal Rambo on me while Punk was witnessing. Punk spoke up though, he told Rambo to cool it because he was disrespecting a woman. Alfredo laughed…cackled. He responded all hurr-durr about it, said that Punk needed to mind his own business. And I'm just there, the catalyst, standing hoping that they calm down. Punk grabbed Fredo from the collar and told him off before somebody's face met his foot. Micks arrived in time to both ask and drag Punk away from the scene – he towed me along.

My inner-girly girl is still shrieking. He fucking defended my honor. Give him some armor and a while horse, please! He's single. Natalie moved just in time but its taboo to try anything on him: bestie's don't fool around with bestie's brothers.

_-Marleene_

_December 31st, 1997_

I really wish this cheap ass notebook came with a recording device: my shriek is Oscar-worthy. Today has probably been the best day ever, in a while.

Being that it's the end of the year, Micks and I always get together at some grub place to have ourselves a mini-celebration before we go home to our families and actually welcome in the new year. So, this year, Micks invited Elle and her man, Fannie and her fling, and me. I felt like a black sheep, a fucking seventh wheel, I forgot to mention my boy, Wesley, who's been with Micks for some time now. Last minute, Punk decided to roll through which induced me with happiness – I even happy-danced, in my mind. My growing crush on him has me acting all weird, fuck.

Wesley suggested we do our little gathering somewhere familiar, _Charlie's_. As we trudged through Winter Wonderland, we had no ride, Punk took the liberty of putting an arm around me. My coat couldn't protect me against the goosebumps that rose. I felt warmth and safe. You wouldn't expect that from a guy who dons dude-line, dyed hair, and goes by the alias "Punk". The frigid temperature saved me from ridicule as it covered my blush.

When the clan finally arrived, Punk held the door open for me. How fucking chivalrous. We chose a booth and squished together on the end and thus began our feast and light conversation. Everybody had entered their own chatter, while I contemplated what to even say. The waitress swung by all merry and took our orders. Punk seemed impressed by my not holding back with my order and there's where we began. Conversation flowed seamlessly. We blended in as almost a couple. It was a swell dinner.

Afterwards, we all decided to host a snowball fight. Girls against boys. Punk and I had each other on lock. We chased each other like hunters, looking absolutely ridiculous. My dumbass tripped and Punk crashed down atop of me, sucking all the air from my lungs. He got on his elbows and our lips _almost _touched, give it a centimeter apart. I laughed at his bashful expression and dunk his head into the snow and rocketed off.

Everyone split, well went to the Brooks' household. They don't have family around and Elle's man and Wesley were invited to spend it with them; Punk strayed away to walk me home, not that I asked but he mentioned how late it was getting. Ice cubes and all, we trudged home. Along the way, his hand subsequently took mine. It felt like a scene from one of those over-the-top, cheesy, teen flicks but it was sweet nonetheless. We stalled as we reached the front of my house. I told him how fucking awesome the day'd been and kept rambling. Out the blue, he kissed me. The heat went bone-deep. When we lifted for a breather, he mentioned something about getting together more often. Brain-dead from the effects of his skillful lips, I just stood there. He chuckled and nudged me homeward bound. Once I got to my porch I looked over my shoulder to see that he was still there…waiting. He's precious.

Inside the house, Caro heckled me relentlessly; the little bitch has observed the whole damned thing. Fannie snitched though, fucking bitch. Dad felt the parental obligation to introduce me to what we know as "the birdies and the bees". I am traumatized. Uncle almost shat himself from the hilarity.

Happy New fucking Year!

_-Marleene _

ΔΔΔΔ

My pillow almost asphyxiated me as I smothered my girlish squeal. I can't believe any of this is real; nope, not at all. It's funny, really, it is because I could see flashes of grainy memories reel by but not fully picture anything more than a few moments.

Mister Stomach growls once more and I decide to shove my journals to the side and force myself into a coma or something, this all too very energy draining. I still wonder, does Phil even remember this?

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **What y'all think? Are these entries piquing your interests? Things are going places, that's for sure! Sorry for any typos!


	18. My Funny Valentine

"From the heart comes a warning filled with bloody good cheer. Remember what happens as the fourteenth draws near…" reads a shaken mayor in this movie we're watching. I believe it's called, _My Bloody Valentine_. Punk chose it considering its' theme could relate to the holiday – Valentine's Day. He's quite the romantic…and has an aberrant love for the horror genre, lovely.

So yeah, here we are bunched up the Brooks' household, winding down in the living room. It's nearing one in the AM here and there's no supervision whatsoever…Dad Brooks doesn't count and Twiggy is out. We could get away with an orgy if we wanted to! If Pops ever got wind of this, there'd be caps in people's asses, but what Daddy doesn't know: won't kill him.

"T, let's go outside for fresh air and a smoke, the kids will be alright," whispers Elle to her outstretched boyfriend who simply nods.

They sneak out into the front yard, leaving Micks and my main man, Wesley, cuddling on the loveseat while little Valentine-less me takes comfort in the blanket I brought. More of my belongings are thrown somewhere in Micks's room as I convinced my dad with the pretense of a sleepover. Punk is on the other end of the couch, fully engrossed. He didn't bother to dress up; he added his prescription glasses for a sophisticated look though.

The movies climbs up the gore-o-meter where the serial killer dressed in miner-wear slices a blonde's face in half with a shovel, both my best friend and a jump especially given the real life special effect coming from the upstairs.

"Fucking Jesus…" I breathe, clutching my chest, "somebody get a fucking broom and hush those motherfuckers up," I mutter. Somewhere upstairs, Mike and his recent conquest are playing tonsil hockey or at least were 'cus by the sounds of it…yeah.

"Somebody's acting up out of fear…" says Punk under his breath.

Smacking his thigh, "That shit just got me."

He winces and rubs his thigh, "I'm caught between thinking you like touching on me or it's just that you have a sadistic guilty pleasure," he smirks, "I like to think it's the latter."

Gasping, "You're…ugh!"

Wesley chucks and handful of popcorn and Micks turns up the volume. For someone who was deathly afraid of the movie, she seems pretty entertained.

Punk pulls me into him and whispers, "I heard around town that you got yourself a nice set of hands…" I gasp horrified. What have they been implicating? He chuckles, "Not like that, nasty. You brawled it out with two of those tryhard freshmen girls, Luz and Ana?" I sigh, relieved, and nod, "I like a girl who can handle herself…" I mentally thank Wes for his idea to cut the lights: I'm blushing hardcore.

The couple on the loveseat groan, "Shakespeare, save your verses for later," says Wesley.

Trail mix scatters their way, "Fuck you guys!" shouts Punk and he leans into my ear, "Let's take a walk. C'mon."

"_Estas loco_, it's late as hell. We could get mugged out there," whisper back. Truth be told, our side of Lockport is ridden with lowlifes – dangerous ones.

"Have you seen me in the ring, missy? I kick ass, sweetheart. I've got you covered on all sides, c'mon," he ups and yanks me out of my seat. As he drags me towards the door, he hands me his sweater, "Don't want ya' getting sick and shit."

Denying it, "You'll need it more than me, tough guy."

Outside, the crisp air hits us fairly hard, being February and all. Slush covers our shoes and everywhere as we step onto the sidewalk. Muffled laughter floats by as drunks litter porches; they notice us and begin to cat call me. Punk flips them off and puts arm around me. Pair of hookers eye him wistfully as we cross the street at a corner. I don't really slander their lives, everybody needs money and rakes it in any way they can.

"Why are we out here?" I actually don't mind but there must be a motive. Besides, Punk's still my crush which is really sad. People have told me he's caught on but others say that he's oblivious since he's so wrapped up in his wrestling gig.

He looks down at me, "Just want to spend some time with my favorite little artiste, too much to ask?" _Favorite? _I almost die.

Shaking my head incessantly, "Um…no, not really, I wasn't all that…yeah, I don't…don't mind," yeah, I could kick myself right about now.

"You stutter when you're nervous," he muses, "It's cute."

Downcasting, "Thanks?"

We've neared a bench near the park, he sits me down, "I have a reason to bring you out here, so bear with me," I nod confused, "You know me, I don't reel in chicks with a snap of my finger or even try. I don't really chase 'cus it's really all just a game, but I've been itching to tell you…I like you," my eyes widen. Is he…? "Not in a platonic way, I mean yeah but in that you-make-my-days-brighter type of way. Beat me with a stick 'cus it's cheesy as shit but…I like you. Everything. Maybe this is too fast, too early, too much. Hell, we've only know each other for months. Maybe its taboo, you being fifteen and me seventeen – hell, I think I'm too old for y-"

As if a force of nature took possession of every fiber of my body, I clasp a hand over his mouth, stand on my tippy-toes, and kiss him. Not one of those sloppy, tongue ones but one that'll convey my mutual feelings. Ballsy, right?

When I let off, "It could work, I stutter and you ramble," we both share the same breathy laugh, "If it means anything, you could've said something simpler and I would've admitted the same…the thought was endearing."

Silence takes over the air, not even a tinge of awkward. We both just stare at each other feeling light and mighty. Maybe the world isn't rotating anymore because if seems like an eternity has passed by and the cold doesn't seep through anymore.

Phil opens his mouth to speak, "Soto, wake up. Soto…Soto…wake up!" I cock my head sideways throw out of loop.

ΔΔΔΔ

Hands rock me to and fro, giving me a bout of nausea. I regain consciousness with the sun blaring right at me. _Fuck this curtainless shit!_ I mumble something along the lines of "stop" and "hungry" before rising and shining.

"Good God, you're up, finally," sighs Nance. My mind is still soggy though and all I want to do is slump over. _Fucking dreams…_, "Soto, you're wanted in Dr. Humpsteins's for another session," I snort, "Did you hear me? Get up and let's go!"

Slapping away her freezing hands, "Chill, dictator…" I groan and stretch out my sore bones before clumsily slipping off the mattress and following my escort to said doctor's office.

Once inside the quarter's, Nancy gracefully dismisses herself and Doc immediately corners me, attempting to devour my lips and face, and tries his luck with my left tit. The act sobers me and I push him away, "The fuck is wrong with you, trying to take advantage of your position?"

The doctor splutter taken off guard, "But…but you offered yourself, that preposterous!"

"And who knows about that other than me? Plus, I don't remember any offering…" realization, "Let go of me before I scream bloody murder, idiot," he shoves me into one of his patient chairs and towers over me like a vulture but my main focus is on regaining feeling in my wrists, "I'll tell you what, for the sake of your name, I'll keep shut if you agree to make my stay free – call it a humanitarian act or some bull," I look up at him who still leers at me, "You don't reduce me to a puddle of fear, honey."

"You cunt, manipulative bitch..." he spits, "Why should I, huh?"

"I just fucking told you!"

He bangs a fist on his desk, "Fine! Fine," he pounces on me, "If word of this gets out, I'll ruin you. You got that,_ ruin_."

Chuckling devoid of humor, "What you gonna do, honey?" I just continue to smile up at his face, "Baby, life has fucked me so much, ruined is a notch above my height," with that, I saunter out like a motherfucking G but don't get the chance to rejoice as Chuck pops my bubble with his presence, "You really are a joykill."

"I guess your happiness doesn't concern me; I'm just here to escort you back."

"Whoopee…lead the way!" I shout un-enthusiastically.

ΔΔΔΔ

_"Phillip, why don't we head on back; we're bound to turn into icicles," I say tugging his rough and scarred hand._

_"If I didn't like you as much as my brain thinks I do, you'd be one dead chick," he replies and I laugh, "No joke there…"_

_Releasing his hand, "You just killed the moment," as much as I try to be serious…I can't._

_"I just have one question for ya'," I nod, "Why'd you wait 'till now?"_

_Tapping my chin, "I'm more accustomed to the old-fashioned ways where the girl just sighs and acts dopey as fuck until her dream guy get an epiphany and confesses his undying love for and they walk into a meadow full of green into the sunset."_

_He puts a finger under my chin and lifts up so he can see my coy expression, "You're one hell of a dork, a cute one," he kisses me and before I get too winded, leads me back to his house._

_"I didn't take you for a romantic, all of this so you could get yourself a kiss…"_

_"I have many undiscovered but charming qualities, sweetheart."_

Facepalming, I shake my head. Why would I have wanted to bury _this_ in a sink hole? I'll probably keep reading and discover a novella-worthy romance.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_So, the first part was a dream, yeah? And the last pit was an excerpt from her notebook/journal/diary thing. Thanks for the read and I'll be looking forward to your thoughts!_


	19. Restless Heart Syndrome

Shit's getting to me. These four walls are closing in giving me a sense of heightened claustrophobia and it is settling in snugly. Thirty-six hours, I've been cooped up in this eight-by-ten pen for thirty-six hours and, not counting today, I've got thirty-six more to go before I set foot outside of this wretched place. I'm yanking my chain; I can't keep focus. Clark fucking Kent needs to swoop in through the window and save this distressed damsel! I'd appreciate a morsel of human contact, it'd keep me sane.

Rapping on the door bring me back to my sense and I rush over to see that it is none other than Chuck, "Chuck!" he creaks the door open and I assault his personal space with a hug, "You don't know how happy I am to see you!"

He lifts his hands away from me, "No Contact rule, Soto."

"Can you fuck your rule and just soak in the hug for a second?" I whine.

"Uh…just for a quick one," he hugs me and pries me off, "You're acting odd…"

Twiddling with my disheveled hair, "I am twenty-two fucking years old about to cry from desperation, Chuck. This lockdown is testing my sanity and it's effectively wearing me down. I'll promise to refer to you by your actual name if you lounge and talk to me. Yes, please, say yes," in my lifetime, I've never begged for company…'till now.

Mark, not Chuck, leaves the door hanging open, "I was instructed not to fraternize with the patient, meaning you," he opens up looking a tad bit flustered.

"Sorry but this is like cold turkey or something," he pitifully nods and I think up an ice-breaker, "You dig wrestling?"

Checkmate. Being a wrestling fanatic is a dime in a bunch, it's not a popular as prior years. Luckily I found the dime. We discussed the current Taker versus Randy feud and rated the divas. We also went over the Melina angle – she's my third favorite diva but maybe I'm biased. He mentioned Maria which irked me a bit.

"I still am not feeling the whole Taker and Randy thing," he says.

"The more screen time Randy gets, the more I enjoy. The guy's a sight for sore eyes," I reply with wistful hint in my voice.

Mark snorts, "Never going to happen, Soto."

"Call me Marleene. We've been getting along for a good hour; I'd like to go by a first name basis."

He shoots me a smile, "Alright…Marleene."

Eyeing the door that's been open since my guard came in, I ask, "Is it worth asking to be let out for a walk? It doesn't matter where; I just wanna read somewhere where it isn't a claustrophobically tight."

Mark scratches his forehead looking like he's going to deny my request, "Fuck it," my face lights up, "Yeah, you're the only patient I've had to escort that wasn't on the brink of insanity. C'mon, I'll just tell them that I was on guard, doing my duty and whatever. Is the Family Waiting Room okay?"

"Better than that!"

ΔΔΔΔ

For the better part of the time Mark and I have been lounging the waiting room, I've been catching up with my romance. I'm up to '98. I mostly rant about how things are going, ya' know. How one week I took the kid to meet single most important men in my life, Pops and Uncle Vidal, and how mortified I was when the two evil men recounted tales of my childhood. One entry talked entirely of how in the two months we'd been together, 'till that date, I felt like Punk was a keeper and how he was the only one to really make a breakthrough. Another spoke about the things we discovered about each other. In one, I stated how we had something going on prior to those two months, nothing physical but it was unofficial…everything was still off the record.

At times, I feel like I can catch and hold onto glimpses of the past I concealed in these notebooks. In my junior year, I took a psych class and can follow back on a passage in one of the textbooks that said that we sometimes force ourselves to forget shit as a defense mechanism. Usually, this happens to people who have been severely traumatized. If my memory serves me any, I've never really gone through anything so horrendous just your regular heartache. Though, these memories being fuzzy tells me otherwise.

"Oh, I remember this…" I let out under my breath.

Mark peeks over his newspaper, "You say something?"

"Uh…no, no, just talking to myself," he shoots me a wary look and returns to his read.

An entry for a day in April. Most times, this notebook is vague or just snippets. This day, I decided to be somewhat of an author and be all descriptive and shit. Painting pictures, that's why I enjoy reading even though I barely read anything more than magazines nowadays.

_Seven years ago…_

Tis' a sharp sunny April day, no signs of slush and snow. It could be summer except the weather is still leaning at fifty and sixty degrees but it is good enough. We're downtown, well, the park to be specific. Kids are bouncing around the playground like annoying grasshoppers as their nannies gossip. My blonde bombshell and I are situated under a shady tree just minding our own. I'm picking apart a daisy as Punk rests his head on my lap. Our world is calm; well he seems a bit out of it.

"What's on your mind, stud?"

He shifts, "Stuff, beautiful, just caught on a though…" he says all vague about it. What am I, a mind reader?

"Care to elaborate?"

"What are we?" his pretty lil' face looks up a me, question in his eyes.

"I have a reason to believe we're humans. Our origin? I don't know, I kinda lean on the Darwin theory though," I answer cheekily.

The kid snorts, humored, but turns serious, "You're a smart ass, you know that?" I stick out my tongue, "I meant, what are _we_? Are we a couple, friends with benefits, open…?"

Not that I never expected this question to pop up but…I am not ready to answer. We've gone by, what, four months just being a "we" and now we're about to tag it? Tag, labels, whatever, always seem to make things more serious. Marleene Soto isn't all about commitment. That doesn't mean I've been all over the place behind his back, I hope same goes for him but…boyfriends aren't kept for long with me. Guys get the label and they feel restrained.

As if spotting out my inner-conflict, he speaks up, "Listen, I don't give a shit about labels, if that's what you're thinking. I don't want to be just a rebound either, sweetheart. Since the day I told you I liked you, I've been all about you. No other girl in my life and I really hope I haven't been licking some other guy's leftovers."

I shake my head, "You're the only one. Labels just seem to make guys feel encased…the last thing I want is for you to feel that way."

He sits up and caresses my face, "Not in the long run. You make my days, Marleene. You get me and accept me. Waking up in my situation is hard as shit but waking up knowing you'll be my protein bar…life just seems better-"

With the power invested in me, I knock the guy onto his back with a thump and a sharp exhale and kiss the life out him, "Let's just be, sunshine."

Giggles escape me as he flips me over and tickles the shit out of me, "Dear, heavenly, lord! There are kids here, you little degenerates. Take those sinful actions elsewhere!" some random lady yells as if her eyes were burning at the sight.

ΔΔΔΔ

Reopening my eyes, the world comes back into focus. I feel a bit woozy but whatever. In the time I zoned out, Mark picked himself a mousy nurse from the day shift. He's got game, never would've thought.

Deciding to use my time wisely, I jump back into my notebooks. Most of them describe priceless, memorable moments that would make anybody laugh and hide their face. Others are rants about how we got into some unresolved discussion and how much guys suck. A series of hours on the road without a destination or location but joy as we jacked Mr. Brooks ride and going out to catch a matinee movie during school hours. I find myself blooming up over the sweetness of the time when it seemed that love was unfolding until the last couple of pages which are nothing but doodles and clippings from sad songs.

Our stint came to a close in late May – just a couple of days before his and Fannie's graduation ceremony. The single entry is disheartening. Young Marleene wrote as though she clutched her still beating heart in her hands. She – I was left. It was vague but Punk boarded a train with the prospect of pursuing a wrestling career, told me he'd come back, and left.

Crossing my legs, I force myself to bring back that lost memory. I'm curious by nature. I know it's here, somewhere in the depths of my mind but…blank! My hair is suffering from the pulling; it's irritating this whole forgetting deal.

"Am I allowed a call?" I ask, interrupting Mark and Mousy's little get together.

"Yeah but fair warning, shit around here is monitored."

Fuck that! My room already has censored television, room stripped to shreds, and I'm searched endlessly – I don't need my privacy to be invaded any further but I really need to phone somebody, "Too much to ask for a cell? It's deathly important," I pulls Dom and Phil's signature puppy-dog eyes for effect.

Switching between me and Mousy, Mark digs into his pocket and hands me one hell of a brick, "We gotta go about this discreetly, okay? James Bond level of discretion, Marleene," he turns to his gal, "You mind keeping this on the down-low?" bitch is so over that she nearly sighs in agreement, "Let's take you to the bathroom but you got to be quick."

The thousand lightyear trip to the bathroom wasn't really worth it. All Wesley had said was what I had written down give or take a couple of extra lines. It hit me though, I had said I'd wait on the guy, like a good little girlfriend but in reality, I had fucked him over with his own kin. And somewhere between realizations and such, I dropped to the ground and realized that whatever happened with Noah was karma. Because is say how shit cheaters are but I myself am one. In short, I deserved the ending to my fairytale with Noah and the fact is a gut punch.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-**_Alright, so we've discovered that Punk and Marleene got some history. He left for the pursuit of wrestling. She cheated. So what's next? Read!_


	20. En Hora Buena

Sometimes I can't help but blame Estella, the mother that abandoned my family, for my instability. Growing up without an actual female role model left much untaught and while Fannie tried to be that figure, she was just winging it. Sometimes I don't even resent Estella. After all, I am the master of my own destiny. My life, my choices, my outcomes. If I'd been guided maybe my life wouldn't consist of fuck-ups, screw-up, mishaps, and deceits. Then again, she was a fiend. Her state of eternal euphoria would have inhibited her to be of any use to us. So perhaps I'd still end up here one way or the other: restricted to a five day lockdown, laying on this very bathroom floor, in my own solace.

_Drip…Drip…Drip… _the sound of the leaky sink makes the world seem like such a simple, peaceful place. In my world, emotions are at war with themselves bringing me to a dead end. I don't know how to feel at all. Mackenzie, Wesley, or even my people at the parlor would come in handy for all of what I need to spill out. _Mark's outside, you know?_

Taking the brick of a cell phone in hand, I sweep myself off the floor. Rubber-legged, I proceed towards the door to find Mark and Nurse Mousy. Just so happened that while I was drinking in my remorse, they got away with a "Meredith and McDreamy steamy" moment.

Despite the situation, I cough exaggerated enough to pull them apart. Mousy slides back a few inches with her head buried in her hands, pink from the neck up. Mark on the other hand shoots me a murderous glare.

"Excuse me but I needa snag Mark away for a moment or two," with that I drag him away either way.

Struggling to hold my grip, I drag him all the way to the end of some hall and throw him into a random room, personnel lounge. I pace around as he berates me, "Did you have to fucking cock-block me, Soto? You know how long I waited for Nicole to get on my boat?" he snaps but I just keep on pacing, "Soto, are you listening?" he asks. I just break and crumble, "What exactly did you do in that bathroom?" he snatches my wrists and checks them over for any signs of evidence.

"You're the closest person that I have to call a friend. I…I need to talk! Before you say it, I don't need a fucking shrink! Shrinks listen like twenty-percent of the time while analyzing the shit out of you for the rest! I need a human being to listen and just vent to, okay?" at this point I'm sobbing and gasping for air, "I don't want a fucking shrink!"

The guy, in shock, shushes me and directs me to a sofa, "Okay, I'll listen just relax, okay?"

"Call me Marleene, it makes this less frightening."

"All eyes and ears on you, Marleene."

Nerves constrict my airway as I try to find a way to let it all out. Strangers aren't ideal for these sorts of things – too personal. _Breathe, bitch, breathe! _A set of breaths and I'm semi-ready, "Sorry, I just never…I…" he nods his head understandingly, "No questions, okay?" another nod, "This is going to sound cliché as shit but here it goes…" I close my eyes to get a better chance of reminiscing whole details, "It's April of '99. Twiggy Brooks had been ill for quite a while now. Her heart had shown an irregular heartbeat. It was overworking itself. Along with massive bouts of nausea and migraines, she had started to lose weight at a rapid pace. Her kids were at her beck and call day in and day out while her husband was out of sight. Phil was nowhere to be found, at least that was what I first thought…"

ΔΔΔΔ

_Six years ago…_

_Silver Cross Hospital, New Lenox, IL_

We've been visiting so often we know most of the staff by a first name basis. I just tag along with the trio of siblings because Twiggy has, somewhat, been a big role in my life. Even before she was committed, I was around her house daily. And as day roll by, her health doesn't seem to pick up any and as shallow as it is, she's going to waste away here.

I lounge on the convertible chair as Micks saunters off to scavenge for some food and probably cry in the bathroom while Elle listens in as her mother goes on relentlessly about the cruelties of life. Mike just keeps to himself, finding the gloomy weather more interesting than all of this. After being here dusk to dawn, I guess even the pattering rain is something of interest.

"Yo, women, I'm out. I'll be back after some time, Ma'," as he starts towards the door, he stops to tow me along.

"Son, wait!" yells his mother. Mike groans and retreats, "Clean that piece of shit house and bring back my favorite joggers."

"Anything else?"

"Stop fucking your brother's girlfriend, you little shit," and a round of palms meet faces. Yeah, she knows too and she doesn't like it one bit.

_Brooks' Household, Lockport, IL_

"Mike, where'd you leave the goddamn keys?" I shout, I've been fluttered for the better part of the trip back home. Mrs. Brooks pushed thoughts back into my head…thoughts that were better left forgotten.

"Under the mat!" he shouts back from the car.

I bend over to feel around for the keys when I feel a hand smack the shit out of my ass. Oh boy, it stings! I turn around to see a devilish smirk strewn across my green-eyed companions face and jangling keys in his hand. Almost an exact replica of the…yeah, "You're a fucking asshole!" I scold.

Snatching the keys from his grip, I stomp to the door without further ramifications, until I feel his arms weave around me, "Why are you pissed now?"

"Your mother…" his grip tightens and he presses against me. He's ready and that shit makes me uncomfortable considering how annoyed I am, "Honey, can you remove your erection from my ass so we can get in?" he slides away, "Thank you."

Once inside, I strip off my sweater and walk to the kitchen in hopes of indulging in some feel-good-food. Of course that isn't what Mike wants, seeing as how he has the glazy glint those green eyes of his. His feet make the floorboards creak trying to get my attention but I know if I look into his eyes right now, I'll be disappointed. He's not the owner of the olive green eyes I always find myself pining over.

"I think you need a something stronger than a chill pill, Marleene…" he says coming up in front of me, "You're so angry and uptight, relax," he whispers as his lips ghost over the skin of my neck, "I'll help you though…" his teeth knick at the skin eliciting a sharp hiss from me, "There you go," he lifts me onto the counter, his fingers working their way up my shirt. My teenage brain can only handle so much before giving in.

_Forty minutes later…_

Working my way through some cashews that I found, I vegetate on the couch with my feet propped up. I'm geeked for the match coming up between the New Age Outlaws and the team of my beloved Mankind and Kane. My fuck buddy is off in the kitchen preparing dinner, or at least that's what he considers PB&J.

Soon as the match commences, Mike swerves into the room with a stack of sandwiches that could probably feed have a dozen bums and still leave seconds. He conveniently stands in front of the fucking screen to which I shout at him to move.

"I made food, be generous."

"I'm trying to watch the match and I'm oh so grateful. Move out the way!"

Narrowing his eyes, he throws himself onto the couch and grabs himself a sandwhich, "I dunno why Punk's dumbass found that such a lovely quality…" he mumbles and he munches.

My mouth drops like a hanger. How many times have I mentioned the fact that said guy is history that should not be repeated? Too many times. Of all people, Mike's the last person that should even utter a word on the subject. He's the damned reason why Punk left. Fucking asshat. I pull a pillow to my chest and fixate my attention on the match.

Making note of the tense air, fuck buddy slides over and waves a hand in front of me. I blink but don't pay him any attention, he doesn't deserve it. He gets the confirmation that I'm upset so he starts, "It slipped, babe," for the next few minutes he spends charming me with sweet nothings, hoping to butter me up for another round of hay rolling.

"If you wanna fuck, let's fuck."

He chuckles, "I like your upfrontness, kid, I really do."

_Ten minutes later…_

It's all a game of dominance, he's winning. He has me on hands and knees over the couch. His hand possessively grips a butt cheek while he leans over me to whisper provoking slurs as he keeps a steady but firm pace. I'm just moaning to moan. We have a free house and as soon as he's spent, I can resume watching RAW. Till then, I lose myself in the feeling of friction occasionally touching myself.

The front door swings open, I can feel the cool air sift through, and a voice all too familiar booms, "Holy shit!"Mike swiftly pulls out and takes his shirt to cover his indecency. I, so unlucky, lay low hoping that I'm just hearing _his _voice, "I know that it's you…" comes the voice, sounding on the far side of happy.

Gulping, I rise from my cover and peer over. It's Punk. He's clad in a simple black sweater, grey sweats, and some sneaks. Handsome as ever and totally disgruntled, "Pu…Punk?"

"Live and in the flesh, baby," his accusing eyes drift over my body and back up to my face. The feeling of perpetual guilt courses through me. He looks at me with such disgust.

"Punk…Punk, this isn't…I still…I'm sorry!" I try to articulate but in the end it all falls flat either way.

He raises a hand to shut me up, "Sorry for what? Sorry you got caught?" his eyes delve into mine, they're arctic cold. A vein on the side of his head protrudes and I'm scared that it might burst, "Save that shit for someone who's got shit for brains," he side checks his brother as well and breaks into a sarcastic laugh, "You know, dear baby brother, I never actually expected this of you…" Punks smiles biting his brand new lip piercing, "That's quite a lot, considering how you fucked me over with the gig and shit. This, this is a new level of low," and by this, he means and points to me, "You're the epitome of a low-life, bottom feeding bastard. Congrats on the accolade," with that, Punk's out the door with not even a look at me.

The baby brother's initial shock wears off replace with fury, "How about we settle this like real men, huh. That's what you want, right? To get your ass handed to you."

My...Phil, he stops in mid step, "Because that'd be an injustice seeing as how you're clearly at a disadvantage," he proceeds to walk out into the endless rain wordlessly.

For a moment, I wonder if following my heart will come of any use but I go with it. I fly out the door without anything cover my lady bits. I'm out where any naked eye can see me the way I came into the world and you know? I don't give a flying fuck.

"Punk!" I shriek, "Punk!" I shout trying to reach him before he speeds away in his car. Within an inch of him, I latch onto his sleeve and hold my ground, "Punk, please listen to me! Let me explain!" I shriek, out of breath. Shrugging out of his sweater, he slings in around me. This is all in attempt to preserve whatever remains of my dignity, he shakes his head in dejection, "Baby please!" I sob.

Raindrops hang off the tip of his know and spill off the ends of his tied up hair, "You don't have to say a thing. I get it…I" the pure sadness that his eyes hold are enough to drown me, "I expected to come home to the most amazing, beautiful, intelligent girl I've ever known…I expected to come home to have her all over me with excitement in her eyes, expected to come home so she could console me in my darkest moment. What do I find? I find her bent over for the brother who drove me out," he whispers in bitterness, "I fucking told you I loved you. I fucking said that to _you_ and evenwhen we weren't official, I let down my guard for you!" he bites his lip, "You said you'd wait however long that would be," he doesn't wait for me to get a word in, "Joke's on me, huh? I promise you, Marleene, I promise to leave and never return for your sake. I'm off to visit my mom but that's the last of me you'll be hearing of. Have a fucking good life, beautiful," he shoots me one last lingering look and shakes off my hold.

He gets into his vehicle, turns on the engine as I desperately try to unlock the door, "Phil, no! Listen to me!" I blubber but before I know it he reverses and speeds off, leaving me dropping to the ground, scuffing up my knees, crying in his wake.

ΔΔΔΔ

"I wanna at least end off this story on a bright and peachy note but truth is…life doesn't work like that. Twiggy Brooks died in the hospital three days later. Punk didn't bother to stick around for the funeral or wake he helped fund. Elle, the head of the family, married a few years after but went psycho. Mike disappeared from the face of the earth. Micks, she put me here. Punk, he…he didn't return until a couple of months ago. He doesn't even remember me like…like," I can't bring myself to finish I just huddle into Mark's arms.

All's out in the open. This is some behind closed doors shit. How I came to this, I don't know. The man that left me came back and doesn't even remember he hates me. I wish I was ignorant to this. I want to believe I didn't deserve what happened with Noah, and all the outcomes that followed. Ignorance is bliss.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Damn, so the truth is out. We figured out her past. What will come next? _


	21. Lights Out

"Marleene is that really you?" he inches forth, "Wow, this is quite a shocking surprise but hey!" he bends down to embrace me like he doesn't see me mope around school five days a week.

"Hey," I manage to peep out, giving him a smile. If that's what you can even call it. It comes across as more of a grimace than a smile.

He notices but says nothing of it. His eyes float over my head and back to me with a gentle smile, "Finally you decide to come out of your rabbit hole but I don't see why you got a sour face…"

Staring past him at the crowd of grooving bodies, "Micks dragged me along. I'm kind here against my will," I could just walk out. I could round the corner to the 7-Eleven, pick up a pack of sour gummies, bribe the Indian dude behind the counter for a pack of Newports, and sneak away to my thinking spot but I'm keeping a watchful eye out for Mackenzie.

"How about I turn your frown upside down and take you out for a dance?" he says wistfully, his gleaming smile too much for me to deny or handle but do say anyway. He resorts to nudging me, "One dance, Marleene. Don't be such a downer," he puts his right hand over his heart, "I won't bite or anything."

Biting my lip contemplating the offer, "I don't know, Noah."

Kneeling so he's at eye-level with me, he tucks a finger under my chin and pulls it up, "Look, I know about that fool that left you," my eyes widen, "Most people do, actually. I am sorry and I respect that you're hurting but you should know that I ha-"

I finish his line for him. He has a thing for me. Cute, it's cute but gives me even more to feel guilty for. Breaking guy's hearts ain't a hobby of mine but I tend to be good at it, "I know. People talk. And I'm just not ready for th-"

The line he completes it without missing a beat and still he keeps on with his Colgate insured smile, "I'm cool with that. I wasn't planning anything…not tonight. I just want a dance…with you,"

Searching his eyes for any signs of malice or anything close to insincerity, "I just…I just can't. It's been close to a year, I know but I can't…"and again his persistence. That shit is strumming away at my nerves. Why can't go peruse and leave me alone?

By the time I come around to say anything more, I'm swept onto my feet and dragged between bodies into the middle of the dance floor. No matter how mighty the fight I put up, I end up losing and giving into the soft steps of the ballad the DJ decided to cue in. One last move of resistance and Noah pulls me in closer, so close that I can feel just how toned he is.

Somewhere between the gentle sways and everything else, the mood caught on and I let myself relax. I let Noah kiss me and hell I kissed him back, my thought process flying out the window.

When we come up for are, shallowly breathing, I take a shy glance up at him and shriek in pure horror. His face hones a wolf-like smile that could send even the devil running for cover. His hands rake up to my neck and squeeze before I can manage to evade him. The squeeze every single time I try to claw at him or even gasp for air.

"You though you could escape so easily, _puta_?" he hisses.

Blood covers my cuticles as I sink my nails into his wrist but he doesn't let up. The room in spinning in circles, everyone is still enjoying themselves as if a possible murder isn't happening before their eyes, and I'm still trying to struggle on to no avail.

"Soto…Soto…_Soto_!" scream voices, seemingly inside my head, terrifying me all the more, "Soto, wake up!"

ΔΔΔΔ

My soul slingshots back into my body. The first breaths I take are labored and shallow almost if I was moments away from the kiss of death. Distraught, my eyes pop open to reveal a rather annoyed Nancy hovering over me like a fucking helicopter while Mark stays at the foot of my bed exhaling as if relieved.

My brain still stuck in a half-dormant state, "What?" I mumble trying my best to sound a least bit coherent.

"Marlee–_Soto_, you were choking in your sleep," explains Mark keeping his professional façade on.

Searching my wrists and feeling around my oddly sore neck, "It wasn't real…?" I say, talking to myself mostly.

"What wasn't real, Soto?" questions Nance sounding how she looks, annoyed.

"Look, _bitch_, it'd be grand if Mark could take over from now on 'cus your fucking face is biting me right fucking now!" I snap, "Rotate on outta here 'fore I get a sense and beat the bejesus outta you!"

Slamming her clipboard smackdab into my poor guard's chest, she stomps on out. In all honesty, I enjoyed the scene. In all the time I've been here, she's been black and white nothing in between.

"Marleene, you need to cool off that temper. The attendee has enough power to ruin you or worse…send you up that elevator and into the Psych Ward and trust me, it ain't fun," he lectures while rubbing his chest, "What happened though? Nightmare?"

Scowling at him, I lay back down because this head of mine is starting to throb, "These cooped up hens fuck with me! It's not my fault they got their tampons stuck up their ha-has…" I snicker 'cus I'm that damn funny…and to avoid the seriousness of my dream, "It _was _a nightmare though."

Mark slides onto my bed, "You wanna talk about it so I can tell you a secret?"

Biting my lip, my natural curiosity sparked already, "I'm going to have to peel back a couple of years 'cus to get my dream you have to get my reality, okay?" I suppose doctor-patient confidentiality is within his contract, right? Either way my mouth begins to move and shoot out words before my brain can fully wrap itself around the consequences. I tell him how everything started and tragically ended with Noah. Talking about it still wounds me skin deep.

"Wow," he whistles. I give him a few moments to digest it and myself to get rid of the lump in my throat, "You're a strong woman, no about that, Marleene," he pats my leg, "No shame in still being shaken by that, none. You think about joining one of those Battered Women groups, you know, when you finally bust out of here. Maybe take of self-defense."

Tracing the lines on the ceiling, "I know how to defend myself, believe me. It was just so surreal what he was doing, like, I just froze, like my body just stopped responding to me. As for the battered thing, nah. When and if I scat on outta here, I'm back to hustling. Christmas is in the air and a girl has a kid to spoil."

I make the mistake of looking his way. He's holding a sorrowful grimace so I just stare up at the ceiling already knowing where this is heading, "I'm not here trying to dictate your life but you should hop off that train while you can, Marleene; it's risky business on all ends."

The worst thing about this is that he's right. Micks unearthing my nightly discrepancies is what threw me off the deep end and landed me here. These days, people look down upon me; they might not do it directly but they sure as hell talk. Going back to working streets would make me feel alienated and quarantined, make me scrub until my skin is all but hanging off my bones. Fuck this shit, "Can we eighty-six this topic, it brings me down…"

"I guess it's secret time…" he scoots closer and I sit up, "You're going home today."

My face contorts. I can't seem to comprehend what he's just said. Did he say what I think he said? I have to hear it once more, "Repeat."

"You're out of this bitch by midday," he says, a smile spreading across his features.

Tears weld up in my eyes as the news sinks in. I cover my twitching lips, "No bullshit?"

"Nope. Betty summoned me and Nancy. Basically, she asked about your progress and whatnot. I think the old woman likes you or something because she just stamped you off. All that's left to do is for her and Humpstein to file some paperwo-"

I fling myself into him, cutting him mid thought, "You don't know how fucking ecstatic I am to hear that…"

ΔΔΔΔ

Paperwork is not a speedy, one-two-three process. It drags on and on but it didn't kill my mood. I had errands to run in-between. I paid ol' Betty a visit and couldn't thank her enough. Humpstein got his fair share as well. He didn't receive anything but a chunk of warnings and specifics on how to cover my bills. As receipts, brochures, and birth control piled on, I gathered my shit – my notebooks – in a hospital duffel. Nancy was gracious enough to give a spare change of clothing seeing as how ruined my dress was.

Now, I stand in the front near the gift shop clinging to Mark like he's some sort of lifejacket. Through all my desperation and breakdown of emotions, I find myself refusing to leave – mostly because I've grown fond of Mark.

"Come on, kid, you're gonna have to let go sooner or later," chuckles Mark and he tries to peel off my arms. I refuse though, I cling on tighter if that's possible, "Look, I'm glad we're buddies now but you need to move away from this and face life head on," he says, rubbing my back soothingly. I nod my head but make no attempt to move, "Is your ride a hot-rod by any chance?"

I peek over to the door and see a muscle car that I know all too well pulling up. It belongs to my nugget, Wesley. My faces beams up on spot but falls because the time has come for goodbyes, "This is it…" I whisper, "I'm going to walk right through those fucking doors," I breathe in deep almost smelling the fresh air already, "I'm not going to look back but this isn't a goodbye, _Chuck_," I say for old time's sake, "I'll see you later," I squeeze him extra tight before floating off.

"You're the best patient I've ever had the pleasure in getting to know."

"More like the _only _one?" I laugh whilst scooting away.

"No turning back!"

Facing forward, "See you later!" I stumble a bit as I walk out the door and run the rest of the way, diving into Wes's arms like Superman, "I missed you too, _mami_."

"Do…don't talk just hug."

ΔΔΔΔ

After a grueling half hour interrogation, we finally pull up to Mick's shack. I've never been so elated to see the disgusting, piss colored house until today. The air's chilly. It cuts into a person like an ice blade even inside the car with the heat turned up.

Soon as I walk through that beat up, wooden door, I'll have completely turned a page and ended this chapter. It hit me during the time I was getting my hair snipped – Wes suggested I switch things up and get myself some new clothes – that I didn't want to be forever ashamed of myself. I don't want to go back to the start, I want a new beginning.

"_Andale_, Mar, you're going to have to go in sooner or later…" says Wes, poking me.

Reluctantly, I unbuckle my seatbelt and step out, taking support from my main guy's hand. Micks and forgiving her is going to play a big role in getting this page over and done with. I'm not one to forgive so easily.

Wes promptly knocks a tune on the door and I huddle into him for warmth. The door opens a crack and then fully. I nearly faint on site, "Well, well, well…welcome back, beautiful," chimes the only man on earth who's known to refer to me like that. He pulls his trademark smirk, "I know you're awed and shit but the least you can do wipe that drool, it's bound to freeze," he laughs and envelopes me. Upon contact, my knees give out and I'm out like light.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_She's out! Hallelujah! And someone's back! Thank you for the support, venture on! _


	22. In Real Life

Hushed voices fill my throbbing head as consciousness floats back. My body is aching like hell though. I can't even bring myself to wiggle my toes. _What if you're paralyzed? _The thought makes an uncomfortable cringe roll through me.

"Guys, I think she's comin' back!" announces a voice that sounds like Wes's.

"Thanks for the heads up, Sherlock," replies quite like Mr. Punk's, I put my money that I'm not hallucinating.

"How about we hush up? She's probably feeling woozy; she needs breathing air," pipes a female voice that is vaguely familiar but I can't put any face to, "Why don't we give her that room?" she suggests, "Come with me Dominick, we can fix your aunt some food or-"

"No! I wanna stay with my auntie! I don't like you, Maria!" whines my favorite little man. _So...we finally meet._

The room goes completely silent…for, like a second, "Dominick, that's extremely rude!" gasps the kid's mother, "Apologize this instant or you're going to spending the rest of the day in your room!" she reprimands and I hear another unfamiliar chuckle.

"Okay, okay, out you guys go," speaks up Punk and for that, I am thankful, "Maria don't take it to the heart. The kid doesn't know how much of a fruit you are."

Maria sniffles, "Yeah, I know. I…I am going to freshen up."

Feet shuffle out of the room. When the door clicks, I open my eyes and allow myself to giggle freely. I thought I was alone but once I'm done with my giggle fit, I see a bewildered Micks and Dom.

"Auntie, you're alive!" breaks the silence. My nephew jumps onto my bed and squeezes the life out of me.

Between giggles, "He takes after you, Wonderbread," I comment. Mackenzie's eyes water, fucking pregnancy hormones. I almost roll my eyes but desist, "No need for them tears, I was tryin' to be the funny girl," I send her a lazy smile which leads up to her endless ramble about how guilty ridden she is, "Abigail, just get over here and accept a much need hug," soon enough she's ramming into me. "It's a damned good thing that I'm already on this bed," I breathe out.

A soft scoff comes from the other side of my room. I lift my head to have a look at the unknown intruder. My eyes widen. Phil live and in the flesh with his rugged smile and face full of shadow. Had I been standing, I would've been out again.

"Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty," a slight blush creeps onto my cheeks, "How're you feeling," he shuffles to me, "Don't say anything like 'peachy' 'cus you look like hell and probably feel the part," I can't help but smack him lightly.

"You're a charmer. I feel okay…just _peachy_," I give him shit-eating smile.

He sticks his tongue out and rearranges my loose strand of newly cut bangs, "I'm diggin' the red," he comments. At least someone noticed the new color. I smile and we just stare each other. I should feel guilty or something because of what I've read but his eyes…damn them.

Wonderbread coughs up a storm to silence the crickets, "Philly, why don't you check up on Maria? I'll keep Mar company," she suggests. She has something up her sleeve, I can tell.

Raising my brow, I send her a look as Phil obliges, rolling his eyes in the process, and scoops up a fussing Dom, "I shall come back," he struggles against the kid that he has dangling, "Champ, you still have to apologize…stop," he leaves.

Shortly after the door clicks, my attention returns to the baby incubator, "Your motives?"

Sounding confused, "What? What ever do you mean?" her hands fiddle around with the seam of her sweater. I merely raise a brow and blink. She's bound to cave. And she does, "Mar, babes, I wanted to let you know how genuinely sorry," she takes a deep breath, "deeply, truly sorry I am," she sits down beside me, "That shit took me back to the old days. You'd always ask me to keep quiet…I couldn't," she closes her eyes and whispers, "Not anymore, at least," a single tear rolls down her rosy cheek, "I am awfully sorry about all those things I threw at you. I should've taken in consideration…I should've stood by you."

Out of instinct, I squeeze her hand, "Hey, hey…look at me," I coax, "At first, I was hella mad. Being cooped up by myself opened my mind to all the shit that has slowly been eating me away," a ghost of a smile appears on my face, "Shit like my guilt over what Fannie did…I let it go. You know how long I've been keeping that with me?" she shakes her head, "Too long. That would've never happened if not for you. Thank you."

"But…but you yelled and told me about bills and-"

"I got that covered, trust me," she questioningly glares at me, "Don't worry…" before it escapes me, I make it a point to mention the notebooks.

She swallows visibly, "I know what they said, I went through them like they were Agatha Christie novels. I knew _he _was tripping back home. I'm an observant person, I know you guys had chem. You seemed stuck in a state of déjà vu."

"Your point?"

"I felt like it was my duty to enlighten you," she shrugs

Sagging back onto the backboard, "Well gee, now I feel like shit. Low and dirty," I turn away, "I fucked around with Mike while waiting on him," I whisper. My pregnant best friend rounds the bed and sinks in beside me, "You think he remembers?"

Her muscles tense up and I know the answer is going to be ugly, "My brother wasn't ever one to forget. If you read details about him and Mike…let's just say it's been a good eight years since they last uttered an insult to each other." I mention his parting speech, "I'm not going to sugarcoat, babes, but he _never _forgets. He came home in '02 and even then, he asked about you. I decided to pair him and you up for Elle's wedding…he refused, remember? He sent Colt as a quick replacement."

Tears fall down. Tears of every emotion on the spectrum. Micks cradles me to her, whispering all the motivational crap she can to soothe me. A knock on the door quiets me on point and in comes the man of the hour, Punk. _Wipe those damn tears! _My chest constricts by just a glance. Micks abandons ship mouthing, _I'll leave you two alone_. My fucking lungs a seconds I way from collapsing; I'm holding my breath so I won't hyperventilate. I'm not nearly as jolly as I was when he left.

"Don't be an ass now, Phillip," whispers his baby sis.

ΔΔΔΔ

Breaking a try-hard smile, I manage to hold myself as he sets down a chair. Funny how a couple of weeks can change a person, I mean, the guy left and came back a different one. His bleached hair is now a sleek shade of black and he sports scruff. Tired, not to forget that but it goes along with his rugged charm. His Pikachu fitted tee pleases me, nostalgic novelty.

My eyes travel back up to his face which holds a slight smirk, "Like what you see, beautiful," he wags his brows for extra effect.

Now that air is breathable, I force myself to chill, "Fuck you and now that you ask, I'm liking the Jesus look…not many can pull it off," I reply in his typical smart ass manner.

He laughs, "Brings all the women to the yard, if I do say so myself," he says flatly. I roll my eyes, "You don't look half-bad, better than a newborn chimp," I gasp and swat him, "Kidding, goddamn. You look good. As I said, the hair, I dig. It brings out your eyes, are they grey or…?" _Woah, he must be staring hard, girl…_

Gulping, "How's the tat?" I know, I'm rather smooth but it's really anything that can that distract what I so much wanna blurt out.

"Huh?"

"The tattoo, how's it doing?"

He blinks a couple times, "Oh," he lifts his shirt and angles himself so I can get a view of it. I blush as my eyes travel south of the border. The ink looks great, by the way, "Amazing, as ever. Maria loves it, I love it…"

Mentioning his arm candy dampens my mood but I keep a smile, "Nice to hear. How is she, you know, after the little man's words…didn't sound so chipper…"

Astonished, "You were up for that?" I smile sheepishly and nod, "Oh god, the girl was bawling her eyes out," he chuckles, "She's a bit over sensitive…"

"I see. Who else was here in the room, there was a stranger…?"

"My main man, Scott but we call him 'Colt'," he settles back into the chair.

"Ooh, when do I get the pleasure of meeting this Colt guy? He seems rather familiar," he is, I need a view for confirmation.

"Once you look half-way presentable. If you ask me, I'm the better looking one of the duo," he grins smugly.

"Eh, I dunno, _Jesus_." He frowns, "Can't comment a whole deal…you're taken and I'm sure Maria wouldn't enjoy hearing _my_ opinion." I state with my own hint of smugness

"How respectful..." he scrunches up his face and puts his arms on the side of my bed, "In all seriousness now, how are you after the whole four day lockdown?"

Not knowing where this new subject is heading, I just stare straight ahead, "Relieved," he replies something gracious but his eyes tell a different story. He knows more than he leads on. That the shit I don't like, "What else did your sister tell you?" I ask full of skepticism, this was supposed to be between me, her, and Wes.

"Nothing, just that."

Searching his eyes for clues, "You're hiding something," I lean in, "Tell me," I whisper harshly.

The man ruffles my hair and urges me to put away my claws. He then drops the bomb – more like the atomic bomb, my best friend has disgraced me once again. She told him about my "extracurricular activities". Of course he didn't sew the words so together but I paraphrase.

"That bitch…" I mutter, this is fucked up!

"Don't get all offensive now, sweetheart. While you were away, I was her confidant," he mentions.

From the strain I've put on my hair, a strand has come out, "That was _my _business!"

"You know that with all the drama you raised she could've miscarried, right?" he sneers.

"I do!" I shout and I hope for all that is holy that the guests are miles away from here, "I do, or did what I did, for this family, honey. It was the only way I could manage to drift by! So, yeah, I'm sorry but that doesn't make it something to just blurt out!"

Tension is rising, he grips my bedspread with such force, "I left my apartment key with you and told you to collect rent from it…hell, you could've kicked the guy out! I would've lost a friend than hear about how my – you fucked the whole damn block for a few measly dollars," his voice escalates with each vowel spewed.

"Pop ain't ever need a second hand…I already did and you saw how it worked for me," I spit, "I'll be damned if I let myself need anybody else."

"Why do you always have to be difficult," he mutters.

"Why do you care, it's _my _body?" I lash out.

"Okay, what kind of example are you setting to all those assholes that beat and make them out as worthless and inferior? What about my nephew, huh? He's going to grow up looking up to an aunt that is a fucking wh-"

His sentence remains unfinished, fuck that. I slapped the venom out of his mouth. I know what I am. I get up and march to the door, "I am a whore but rest assured, Dominick will never know of that, Jack," with that I slam the door on my way out. Inside the room, I hear an object being chucked at the wall. I hope it won't leave a dent 'cus I'm too broke for repairs.

It doesn't hit me till I'm in the half-bathroom that the only thing saving my grace is the Misfit tee that was probably slipped on when I was out and my trustee boyshorts. My fury amplifies and I repeatedly slam the bathroom door until I fall in a heap and force myself not to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _Damn... Mar's just met Maria and Colt, made up with Micks, and fought with Punk...welcome back! _


	23. Put Up Your Hands

"That's what you are, Marleene," that's all I've been mumbling to myself since I let myself sink and sulk on the cold tiled floor. I hate how I'm upset over shit like that. It _is _what I am anyway. I guess it that it ticked me off was that it was _him_ who was about to say it. For all intents and purposes, I am and if he remembers, he'd remember me as just that but I don't want to know – I've already beat myself over it. Those eyes though, sent uncomfortable shivers down my body – accusatory eyes.

Sobering up, I pull out some guest towels from the sink, undress, and enter the shower. Perhaps the soothing trickles of water will help me unwind. Yeah, that sounds nice.

Closing my eyes, I turn the knob to medium and just revel in the sensations of mini masseuses massaging my body.

Obnoxious pounding on the door disturbs my nirvana, "Marleene, open up!" ode to fucking joy, just the person I wanted to see, Phillip.

My eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets and a feel a vein in my temple ready to burst. Can't a girl get some peace around here? I try to ignore him but his steady knocks throw me off, "You may not know this but I happen to be taking a shower!" I shout over the drizzle.

"I don't care! You can't be alone in their, Micks's specific orders!" he retorts.

Fucking tap dancing Jesus, that bastard has it out for me. I put it on my grams, Dolores. It must be his way of reining his wrath over my sinner ass, "Fuck that shit!"

"Either you open the door or I ram it down!"

Retaliating with anything else would be futile; he will definitely ram that bitch down. Banging my head against the shower tile, I turn off the water, wrap a towel around myself, and shimmy to the door, "Maria won't enjoy that!" I shout as a last resort.

"It's a damn good thing she and the clan went out for some grub!" he replies and I know, damn it, I know he's smirking.

Huffing out a defeated sigh, I do as I'm told. The door reveal a rather impatient, foot tapping, arms crossed Phil. He eyes me with surprise. What'd he think I was doing? Narrowing my eyes, "As I said, I was taking a shower not on a pill hunt."

"I can tell…"

"How am I supposed to shower in comfort?" he quirks a brow and I bite myself, "Let me enlighten you, honey. In this house, I am a human being. I get the right to privacy and whatever else. Outside, I'm all the variations of 'slut' and 'whore'. I'm inhuman during the hours that range from twelve and an hour before the sun rises in the secrecy of rundown motels and backseats. Last time I checked, this is my home," I raise my towel to show how fucking modest I can be, "I love my damn privacy," I spit. Outside I don't get to choose who can see me the way I was delivered into the world but I'll be damned if I don't take advantage of the choice I have here.

Digesting my words, the man nods. His lips quirked upwards as if he's had some kind of realization, "You're still mad, aren't ya'?" I keep a stern expression, "Well, keep on getting wrinkles. I am not kissing your ass. What's said was said and done was done. I speak my mind and barely filter it, but don't mind me. I'll keep my mouth shut for the duration of your shower and I'll even turn so you can enjoy your privacy," to shove it in my face, he twists around. He's gloating at the fact that, yes, I'm bothered, "Go on, enjoy 'cus soon it'll be midnight."

Resisting the urge to beat the life out of him, I shuffle back into the shower and purposely throw my towel at him.

The water comes back on but I'm still touchy over the fact that there's an unwanted guest in the room. I don't feel safe – sue me. Men are capable of the vilest things. Goosebumps rise along my arms. Biting my lip, "Are you still turned around?" I peep.

"Yeah, why?"

"Just…you're not going to be slick, right?" I ask, fuck the timid sound in my voice.

"I'm the epitome of a gentleman; of course I'll stay glued like this," he replies in his matter-of-fact tone.

Nodding, convincing myself, I take hold of Dove bar and rag and go about rinsing and lathering the day's dirt.

ΔΔΔΔ

Before abandoning the shower, I take the time to comb through my hair. Spurts of dye mean that I still have to rinse some more but I'm curious of Micks and company's whereabouts, "Where'd you say they went?"

"They said food but I think they're around town, I haven't heard them. Something tells me that Little Miss Nosy overheard our little rumble."

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I mutter a string of cusses. That girl, that girl and her antics, "That's not awkward…" I resume to brushing and towel-dry my hair. It hits me, I forgot the robe. I'm naked with a towel turban and no robe. Fuck me. Seeing as there's no other way, "Punk?"

"That's me!"

Frowning, "No shit! I need my towel," I cringe at the awkwardness.

"Oh. Come on out then," he says as if there's not seriously wrong with that. I die a little inside, "I won't look. I'll close my eyes."

Coaxing myself into thinking nothing of it, "Those eyes better be closed, so help you…" I slip out and quickly pat myself down. I throw on my undergarments, toss on my borrowed shirt, and wrap the towel around my waist.

"You offend me, really, you do."

Passing by him to get in reach of the sink, I notice that signature smirk of his and that his eyes are closed. No signs of peeking whatsoever, "Oh yeah, what you said wasn't anything of that kind," I mutter as I stoop down to search for shaving blades. I push myself to still be mad but the simple gesture of keeping his eyes closed…I'm soft, that's just it.

Finding what I need, I stand up only to bump into him and his hands instinctively grab onto my hips. My throat parches and I can't find a way to breathe. I tense up, looking into his eyes, "Can you…? I need to shave…"

Phil doesn't react. His lips move, "Uh, ye…_no_. No."

Confused, "I. Need. To. Shave," I enunciate.

My green eyed guest spasms back to life, releases me, and pats the sink, "Sit."

Even more confusedly, "Why?"

He throws a rag onto his shoulder and takes hold of my razor, "I shall be your leg barber this lovely evening."

Stifling my laughter, "Has the steam gotten to you? Hell no, give me the rag and razor. While you're at it, leave so I can do this with dignity," I reach for my belongings but he raises them above my reach, "Stop it, I'm not playing!"

"No can do, beautiful," I let out a frustrated growl, "I can't risk losi-can't risk you pulling something funny."

_Tell me you didn't catch that, kid. _Of course I caught it. Toning down, "I don't know, Phil," he needs to leave, like, now. This isn't right. Nothing's right. What if he knows? What if he's being sly while everyone is away?

"Plant it and let me do this. I shave my face, why would shaving legs be any harder?"

Reaching for the supplies once more without a win, I obey and slump over the sink as Punk soaks the rag and applies my peach smelling shaving cream. His fingers glide over my leg, feeling like satin. My breath hitches within me and I can't thank my female anatomy enough. If I'd been born male…things…things would be extremely awkward.

Phil props my foot against his hip, hold my leg, and glides the razor along it. All prior feelings dissipate leaving nothing but embarrassment. The man has got a full view of my panties and probably the fact that they're practically sheer. Still he continues without any funny moves.

"If I really wanted to end it, I wouldn't use a shaving razor…" I comment to ease the silence.

"I'm not inside that head of yours, am I?" he replies, grabbing the rag to rub off excess cream. His fingers graze my newly shaved leg, "Not bad, huh?" I shrug, "Do you shave the above the knee?"

Giggles, unwanted ones, file out my mouth. The question and this mind of mine. Phil gives me a funky glance, "I'm sorry. I do but I can do that myself," I try for the razor once more.

"Just tell me up to where. Trust me, honey, I've seen it all before. Unless, your lady bits smell like fish, I'm following Micks's orders," if looks could fucking kill, "Yeah, yeah act all offended. So, I suppose I'll go from here," his hand lands on my knee, "To here," his hand slides up all the way before my own holds it down.

Lifting my gaze, "Respect me," I mutter.

Punk leans in, looking me dead in the eyes, "It was a simple question."

Squeezing his hand, "That totally wasn't called for," I answer, "What if I did this?" and I place my hand over his crotch. How I went for it, God knows. I wouldn't do this even in another life. To my disgrace, he groans and jerks slightly forward. I retract my hand and face downward. And there you have it, the lack inhibitions in a whore.

Wordlessly, I hop off the sink and high tail out of the bathroom. I'm unbelievable. My hand tingles as well as my leg and for the fuck of it, I'll throw in how turned on I am. Fuck hormones.

ΔΔΔΔ

Predicting that the company will barge in at any given moment, I rummage through my clothes for something suitable. First impressions gotta be the best impressions, especially if I'm meeting people that are a part of Punk's life. If my long forgotten ex remembers me, he surely would've spent some time ranting about me – not being conceited or anything, I mean, I would've given the circumstances.

Coming down to it, I think my babydoll dress and flats will suffice. I should probably add pantyhose or stockings to cover my mismatched legs. Yeah, I will. Dabbing on some concealer and coating the lashes with mascara, I check the face off. The hair, au natural, is worthy of a commercial – must be the burgundy.

Ghosting through the living room, I find Punk laid out on the couch, fully engrossed in whatever movie AMC is streaming. Having no desire to encourage any more awkwardness, I slip into the kitchen.

Drumming my finger across the appliances as I scrounge along sink cupboards, I look for a relaxant. In three days, the woman of the house couldn't have dried it out, right? I look over to the stove's clock and nerves escalate a bit more. For all they know, Maria and Colt will be meeting a bitch that's fallen off her rocker, "Where are you, damnit?"

Another couple of cupboards down the road and I find the 'X' that marks the spot. _Come to momma! _My meds have been found, except the more distilled kind, wine. I frown a fraction but uncork it. My lips attach themselves to it and I go through it like I've been a desert castaway without any source of water.

The distinct sound of the front door and ruckus of human laughter alarms me and sends me into a mode. _Showtime! _Pasting on a demur smile, I walk out into the living room. Everyone quiets down as if they're facing a real life ghost. Talk about awkward.

"Auntie!" yelps my nephew as he flies into my arms…well, legs.

Bending down to smother him in kisses and whatnot, "Papi, donde te metiste? Feels like I saw you last year."

The little man shimmies out of me and mumbles, "Maria's watching…"

My face drops, "Your point?"

"She's nice and pretty and I like her!" he replies, abashedly.

"Oh…" I smile because there's really nothing else to day without being a bitch. He runs off to Phil either way.

Smoothing my dress, I smile in the direction of the only new face in the room, Maria. When they say that the TV doesn't do anybody justice, they ain't lying. This woman is walking, talking sex on legs. It's like the infamous diva doesn't even try. Internally, my blood simmers. It's a wonder why Phil would ever decide to dump her and because he probably hasn't, it must mean he's got a good head on his shoulders. Five star bitch, she is.

"You really are as beautiful as they say," I mention as a way to kick start this little shindig.

The bombshell bats her lashes and shakes her pretty little head, "That's so nice of you. Who told you that lie?" _Honey, if it were a lie, I'm pretty fucking sure the WWE would've cast you aside…_

"Who do you think? Phil, of course," it's true, give or take some words. Call it paraphrasing.

The man in question comes around, "What'd I say?"

Now, I could just stow away but I figured that we'll be co-existing. The whole shower thing best remain a hidden, "Oh, you know, just mentioning to Maria how pretty she is. You did her justice, _Phillip_," I grin at him. He and I reflect our true feelings with the eyes.

Punk nods, not sure whether to flat out call me out or go with it, "Yeah…"

Oblivious to the tension under staged smiles, Maria smiles bright as light, "Babe, that's awfully sweet. I didn't think you talked about me!"

The owl eyed diva leans up to plant one on Punk but he gives her the cheek, "Yeah, I do, sweet tart," _Sweet tart? Pet names…wow._

"Well, it's grand to finally meet you, Marleene. You're the artist that did the memorial piece on Punkers, right?" I nod, "Punk was right when he said you were a beautiful woman," she states with that unwipeable smile. In a peculiar way, it's unnerving.

Rubbing my arm, "That's flattering. Punk must've been playing with ya'."

She clicks her tongue, "Nope. He was talking about you," if I'm not seeing shit, her smile falters for a millisecond.

Not knowing what to say, I turn to observe both of my best friends, Micks and Wes, who're gushing over some ultrasounds. Somebody clears their throat, "How about we go say 'hello' to Colt?" suggests Punk. Well, suggests while steering me out the door.

"Hands off!" I growl as soon as we're out of hearing range.

"Quit being a grudge ridden bitch," he spits back.

We near the car in which the OVW wrestlers and WWE diva have been cruising in. A dark figure, only visible by the orange butt of his cigarette, leans up against said car. The closer we get, the more the film noire feel rises. I can't see his face but can see that he's a fucking tree.

"Put that nasty shit out, man," says Phil to which the other gentleman, Colt, shakes off with a chuckle but obliges, "This, here, is Marleene," he nudges me forth like I'm some kind of show pooch.

Colt opens the car door to lighten up his view and I immediately recognize his old mug, thus making my eyes narrow, "It's _you_…"

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **I feel like a tease, lol. So things are pretty tense with all these new people coming in. I don't know how important they'll be but we'll see! To all my readers, step out the dark! Letmme see what's on your mind!


	24. The Party and The Afterparty

This brunette that's built like football player lets his eyes swivel down the length of me before settling with a sneer of his own, "We meet…_again_," the line ending off like a scene from Mortal Kombat or some shit like that.

For a few teeth chattering minutes, we stare each other down. Both our facial features twitch and it's an undeclared war on who'll crack first. Being the one with lack of self-discipline, I end up breaking out a smile, "You win," I murmur begrudgingly and afterwards wrapping my puny arms around his waist, "Long time no motherfuckin' see, Scotty!"

A familiar snort goes off following Colt's hearty chuckle, "_Scotty_?"

"Hush up, Punk," he says before winding his log like arms around me, sucking the air out of me, "You're still a proud owner of a dirty mouth, huh?" I chuckle but nod because it's true, "Well, I wouldn't have it any other way."

Dramatic coughing and wheezing ensues only stopping once our attention is garnered, "Is…is there something I'm missing?" asks Punk switching between a raised brown and pointing.

"Scotty and I met at Elle's wedding," I reply with a touch of smarm. I could've said we hooked up just to light a reaction or test for one, "Come on, let's head back in," I tug on Colt's arm and lead him while Punk strays behind.

"You missed out, buddy. Remember, I told you to show up but you were like – OW!" the brunette groans, clutching his stomach as Punk trudges ahead of us, "The hell?"

"Spaz attack!"

Inside, we shiver out the frost that seeped through us before going about anything else. Punk and his main man share glares; glares coming from Punk while Colt sends out a series of smirks and eyebrow wags.

"I had a feeling when I heard your name. I had it," I speak up.

Resting his arm around me, Colt leans back all cocky about it, "I knew I would be unforgettable," he snootily says.

Biting back my retort, I nudge him, "It wasn't until I saw you that pieces came together, sugar."

The man frowns, "Could've done without that statement. Chips a man's ego, you know," he says with a playful pout, "I, for one, couldn't forget those cat eyes of yours. Remember how faced we got? Yep, not even after that!"

My cheeks tint up while Phil rolls his eyes, "Quit it! You little charmer, you."

His bear paws ruffle my hair, "That's just how I roll. They call me 'The Panty Dropper' back home," he says smugly and I almost hurl out a laugh. There's a reason Phil and him are friends.

"You guys could write a cheesy romantic comedy with those lines…" mutters Punk with a tone of annoyance.

"You'd know all about those rom-coms since you watch them all the time," replies Colt with a toothy smirk, "Lighten up, Gloomy. You're always on my ass about me getting me some action, this is my chance!" I slap a hand on my face, laughing.

The man who saved me from my ex-boyfriend's wrath months ago crosses his arms and sits back, "There isn't anything wrong with a good rom-com and for your information, I am Grouchy according to Maria," they have themselves a laugh like they've shared an insider and I just turn on the tele.

"Say, Marleene, why don't you recap the wedding since my dear old best pal wasn't there to witness the birth of our friendship?"

Scrunching up my face, "How about you do story time while I borrow your lighter and steal a smoke?" I suggest pulling off my best puppy-dog eyes.

"Yeah, how about you tell it top to bottom? You can speak, can't you?" comments the Straight Edge punk, "More than that, as well…" he mumbles under his breath.

A shocked escaped me. Is he really going there? What in the…, "Are you shitting me? You're really going to be a dick and put me out there?" I shout, alerting Micks and Wes who hush their conversation from the kitchen, "It's bad enough you know but you'd really go there?" I attempt to stand up, not knowing if I should strike or walk out. Luckily for Phil, his bestie holds me back but that doesn't stop me from going off.

The raven haired man simply enjoys the show, "Okay, okay kiddies. How about ol' Colt tells you the bedtime story?" proposed Colt, in a petty attempt to maneuver the situation into calmer, less hostile, waters.

"I'm not putting you anywhere, sweet cheeks. You're getting all riled up for nothing," laughs Phil, reveling in the anger he evokes.

Fighting to restrain me, his best man shoots Punk a glare, "Stop pushing her."

_It's Christmas season, be civil! _Great, even my conscience berates me. Huffing and puffing, I wear out and slump down on the couch, "You think I can have that smoke and lighter, now?" I ask the bear beside me.

"For you, pretty lady, I'd gift the world," he replies with a cheeky grin that summons an unwanted smile from me. Jingles and jangles and then appear the items I wished for.

Taking them in hand, "You're lovely, stunner," I wink, straying away from the couch and over to Punk's side of to grab whatever sweater my fingers latch onto.

"You're lovely, stunner," mocks the son of a bitch but I don't poke him anymore, he doesn't deserve anymore satisfaction.

Outside, man, it's fucking Alaska. Snow litters the every square inch, nearing the estimated six inches. I stick the cancer stick between my lips and tent the lighter as the winds is fearless. Once lit, I lean against the paneling and reminisce about the faithful day in which I met the one and only, Scott Colton. It's a fond memory, indeed.

ΔΔΔΔ

_Two years ago…_

_Saint Joseph's Parish, Lockport, IL_

Out of all the tasks assigned to me as a proud bridesmaid, I'm surprise to even be able to squeeze in a moment of leisure. Five in the morning is an ungodly hour for anyone to be up without at least a hit of Mary, a line, or Monster. Whatever though, I'll just relish the plush cushioning of this antique couch and not mind a thing.

"Where is he?" and the relishing is over as the shriek lifts me off the couch, "Where in the sane fuck is he?" shrills Bridezilla as if I'd get who's she's asking about.

From her vanity, Mackenzie whirls around to reveal a horribly done cat eye, "Who?" she growls, her eye twitching, "Who are you fucking freaking over now?" excuse us but it's been one hell of a day.

TLC and all those programs that follow women on their special day don't exaggerate their scripts. Elle has all the makings and symptoms of the common, Bridezilla: unnecessary ruthlessness, oversensitive paranoia, OCD like need for perfection – anything, name it. Her face speaks volumes, "_Punk_, airhead, our fucking brother!"

"Oh…" my girl fiddles with the chain that arrived with the Bridesmaid's Appreciation Package, "About that...you see, our bro is a busy guy. I mean, with his hectic traveling schedule and pressure to be on his A-game for the big leagues...I'm sorry, sissy, he-"

"No!" wails the eldest woman in the room her eyes shining with unshed tears, the one who claps her dainty hands over her mouth, "No, no, no, no, please?"

The dirty blonde clamps her eyes closed, "He isn't coming, sissy."

How I didn't see it coming, I don't know, but what slips from Eleanor's throat the most inhuman, blood-curdling shrill I've ever had the displeasure to hear. Afterwards, the bride marches throughout the sitting room wrecking everything in her path. Who's going to pay for that? She's like Godzilla dressed in Twiggy's wedding dress.

Her barrage stops and then it's me she's aiming for, "It's all because of you!" she exclaims and I just stare at Micks in bewilderment, "You fucked everything up!"

"I'm sorry but what are you talking about?"

Micks steps in, dragging her sister off into the other room, "Why don't you check on the groomsmen?" she suggest before slamming the door closed.

"God save us," I murmur before withdrawing myself.

_Saint Joseph's Parish foyer_

It's a sin to be amongst all these men. They look fresh as fuck with their mismatched vests and matching pants. This is like men's lingerie. Especially the way Noah's working his get-up.

Sending the cluster a wolf whistle, I sneak up behind my man, "Ya'll look scrumptious!" I compliment them and they ring out in harmonious laugher, except for one, "But not as succulent as my man," I kiss Noah and the men wolf whistle making me smile into the kiss, "You're looking like a dime plus five, babe."

"That's a well known fact," he shrugs off and I pout, "and the fact that you're a goddess is as well," he hugs me.

"Nice save…" I add before pulling away, "Do you know if anybody's covering for that Punk dude?"

Noah's expression sours up like he's eaten a Sour Patch Kid, "No and you shouldn't worry about him," he says sternly. The wedding planner calls for all the groomsmen and he abandons me to go take his seat as he's just a guest.

Stomping off without direction since I'm, apparently, useless for the time being, I miscalculate my step and nearly fall on my ass if not for the pair of arms that caught me in record time.

"Easy there, miss, you could've loss some decency there," comes the voice of my savior. My ears burn and I can feel myself flaming beet red, "No worries, I tend to bust my shit whenever I test gravity with those heels," he jokes, lightning my load.

"I'm really sorry, I was just…I'm sorry," I tell him, meekly, "I'm Marleene, by the way. I'm picking up the wild card and assuming you're here for the wedding as a guest?"

The giant nods his head, "Oh, so you're this Marleene gal I've been hearing about…"  
>he's heard about me? From who? I cock a suspicious brow, "You're correct though. I'm Scott but I prefer Colt. Kinda last minute but I'm Punk's replacement and you're my designated bridesmaid this lovely summer day," he beams.<p>

Giggling, I get down to business, "So you're the replacement, yeah?" he nods, "Come with me!" I drag him all the way to the Bride's quarters and knock before barging in, "Sorry to burst your bubbles but look who I found!"

Elle quits her sobbing and sulking to look up and Micks stops pacing around, "Colt?" she whispers and then blatantly grins, "Colt!" she jumps at the man, "Oh my God!" she pipes out in her excitement.

Scratching my head, "Okay…? Y'all know each other?"

"More like the three of us, long story not enough time," replies Elle, her voice sounding eerily calm. She manages to upturn her lips into a half smile as she walks into Scott's arms, "Where is he?"

"Eleanor, you look like a Disney princess in the making, truly beautiful," comments the man with the overbearing stature. I know he's putting the poor girl's query off but it doesn't work she just blinks at him, "He's sick, stomach flu," and even I know it's a bitter lie.

The wife-to-be buries her face in his chest and sobs rack through her body. Damn, I never thought a wedding could be so depressing. My heart feels like it's about to drop out of place from all the heartbreak I'm witnessing. Damn that brother who chose to be MIA on her day of days.

"He…he said…he's the only brother I have left! It's _my _big day and my people can't…"

_Half hour later…_

"Places, people! We didn't rehearse this just to mess it up!" shouts the planner in her shrilly, scandalous voice.

Bridesmaids touch up the last of their makeup, indiscreetly pull out their wedgies and groomsmen re-do each other's ties and banter amongst themselves as the pianist strums away the first notes of "_Here Comes the Bride" _Couple by couple, they shimmy down the aisle as guests look on, impatiently waiting on the bride.

My body jitters and I pray to Jesus that I won't completely make a fool of myself. I'm not a big fan of audiences, even if it's for a mere five seconds, "Don't be nervous, I got you," reassures Colt. Oh God, he probably feels my sweaty hands! I return his gentle smile nonetheless.

"You're turn, go!" whispers the planner and even nudges us out.

Out there, I paste on my Colgate grin and pretend to not notice the lingering gazes from the men or dirty looks their women send my way. In the process, I stagger a bit but keep on. At the end, Colt wrenches his hand out of my death grip and winks before taking his place as do I.

Overall, I'd give the ceremony a 'B'. Shit was smoother Jif peanut butter. Aside from the brides overemotional tears whilst her now husband recited his heartfelt vow and her own vow that consisted of sniffles and stutters, all was sweet.

On my part, it wasn't all that sweet. Noah slid in with a frivolously dressed strawberry blonde cousin. Her face was top notch, even with all that clown makeup. He has a thing for chatting up top dimes and it just makes my blood boil. I'm not always jealous but it's as though he forgets why he's even with me. I don't have the greatest self-esteem so that's also a factor.

Outside, the struggle to power through the double doors advances. Everyone is desperate to get the best parking at the party hall which is roughly an hour from here. I blend into the background, leaning over the rail, trying to keep my tears at bay. Noah walked off with the strawberry blonde.

"Hey," it's Colt. I blink a gazillion times before facing him, "You look down in the dumps, were those eternal declarations of love too much?" he jokes.

I force a giggle, "You could say that…"

"I saw you staring at that guy who was all Rico Suave with that chick…" I'm transparent, so much for a career in the FBI, "He's with you, isn't he?" he questions already knowing the answer.

"It doesn't matter."

The guy cracks an amused smile, "If it didn't matter, you wouldn't be moping," I side glare him hoping he backs off, "Look, why don't you dump him for the night and be my date instead?"

"You're nice but we just met, sweety," I scoff walking away.

He holds me back, "I have a girlfriend, sweetheart. You and the girls are the only people I know from this side of the fence. So, what'dya say?"

My eyes wander in search of Noah but he's nowhere to be found and quite frankly, he isn't as fun at parties. I bite my lip and stare at Colt's pleading eyes before giving in, "Fuck it!"

_The Broken Arrow, Lockport, IL_

Gotta hand it to white folks, they know how to put together weddings. Some of the guests here I haven't ever seen in my life, probably won't after this shindig. I think most of these people are T's kin 'cus the Brooks's were never close to their own.

So far, the party's been in full swing. Unlike Mexican parties, no casualties have occurred in the three hours we've been here. It's nearing eleven and the drinking games have just begun. Colt and I slide, bump, and grind without care as the DJ lays down the mood. Between laughs and hits at his two left feet, we fill each other with laughter.

"So you're a wrestler, that's something!" I shout over the music.

"It actually is! Childhood dream, call me Shawn Michaels!" we laugh, "It's hard on the body though. People don't know how real faking can be sometimes, especially being in the Indies," he shrugs it off, "What can you do?"

I nod comprehensively, "You're girl mustn't like that aspect, right?"

"Nah but the mindblowing sex makes up for it," he deadpans.

I chortle, "You're dirty!"

He smirks, "That's how she likes it!" I lean against him, laughing my ass off. Blame it on the alcohol, "So, what does a beauty like you do for a living?"

"Nothing as adventurous just a plain tattoo artist."

Visibly surprised, "That's unbelievable, no offence, you don't have a streak of ink on you. Well, visible ones at least."

I blush, "I don't know but I love my job. The human body is a work of art, why not add to it?"

He nods, "Woman with passion no wonder Punk's still hoo- Hey why don't we grab a drink?"

I furrow my brows but go with it, "You're paying right?" I ask sweetly.

_Rabbit Hole Open Bar_

At the bar, women have no restraint. They flood any man that seems single and owns a wallet. I'm surprised how many of these girls were allowed in, their attire is anything but formal.

"Sorry, lady, I've got myself a girl," Colt tells one woman in particular who has been rubbing up against him for a drink, "I'm serious, your fake extensions aren't fooling anybody!" he shouts putting his foot down. The pitiful darling gasps incredulously and trudges off, dumping a random drink all over Colt's front. I guffaw, "Bitches…"

"Oh hell nah!" I shriek on my way down, keeling over a stool. The brunette whines on how his crotch is soaked enough to look like a piss stain and I can't even breathe anymore. After I while, I catch my breath long enough to start again and the man takes it upon himself to dump a drink over my own head, "Bitch!"

My heels come off and I scurry to catch him and dives into a mad dash.

_Three hours later…_

Lifting my head from the toilet I've spent the past fifteen retching over, "I'm going to die…tell my fam that I love their bitch asses…" I mumble and feel the vile rise once more.

In the next stall, my companion replies, "We should hustle before anybody comes in here and throws us out…"

Abandoning ship, we stumble through the front yard, holding onto each other for support. We walk without end or destination. By the time we're sober enough for food, we stop in this random taco shack. It's a miracle it's even open.

"My brain matter is going to marinate these tacos…" I comment rubbing my pulsating temples.

Colt gags, "That's a disgusting mental image, thanks."

"That party was fun though."

"Hell yeah, I don't think I'll ever forget you and that chick with the crazy titties. All for a half empty bottle of patron," he shakes his head with disbelief.

"Half _full_, I consider myself an optimist. My favorite part was Elle enjoying her once-in-a-lifetime. It was a good day…"

"Yeah…" a moment of silence and then he breaks out with, "What happened between you and Punk? The man didn't even want to stick it out for his sister's wedding."

My mind goes to mush. Why is he relevant? More so, who is this 'Punk' character? I scratch my itching scalp and shrug stupidly, "Beats me. I can't even think if I tried."

Colt almost grimaces but leans back, "Don't blame it, you went all out tonight. Your ass was one strip of clothing away from public indecency." I nearly choke on my taco.

Swallowing, "Beats embarrassing myself on the dance floor, in front of dozens, attempting an atrocious Spin-o-rooni like somebody I know…"

"I was drunk…" he mumbles.

_Holiday Inn, Edgecreek, IL_

Sometimes I wonder why people drink to the point of knowing they're going to wake up with their head feeling like it is being cracked open with a screwdriver. Either way, I don't think much of it. I've woken up in a hotel room, wrapped in a comforter, snuggled inside a bed. I look over to the beaming red digital numbers and hop out of bed. It's two…in the afternoon!

"Rise and shine, honey!" I shout whilst shaking the slumber out of Colt who's splayed all over the next twin bed, "I said, wake the hell up!"

His eyes tighten up, "For a pretty girl…you have…one dirty…mouth," he grumbles turning over.

_Fifteen minutes later…_

Everything's in place, I'm refreshed and ready to go. Colt hovers around the window for the pending cab, "Is this the last time we're going to get crunk?" he inquires and hint of sadness in his voice.

The future holds many prospects and I want to be optimistic but we live miles apart and…we're acquaintances that happened to hit it off out of necessity. I grin either way and hug the kid, "Hopefully not, you're a blast…for a white boy."

We laugh until the familiar sound of a car horn blares through the walls, "Alright, time's up, girly."

My lips quiver somewhat, I'm not one for goodbyes, "I'm going to miss you, Scotty."

He pulls me into another breath sucking bear hug, "Miss me later, you're boyfriend is probably pillaging through the village looking for you."

Him and his jokes. I wipe my eyes furiously, "Alright, ask that Punk dude for Micks's number. I got no cash and ain't selling my ass for a cell so yeah," the cab driver beeps his horn to make a point, "Okay, I'll see you later, studly."

"Of course, cutie with a big ol' booty."

I take my last laugh, broken heels, and head off into the sunlight without a second glance back at the new friend I'm leaving behind.

ΔΔΔΔ

By the time I come back to my senses, my body is quivering so violently and my square is history by now. I hang onto the last drag before discarding the stump. It was a night to remember.

"You know, that little fit in there confirmed it. The guy and you have unfinished history and if you don't know, he still has a thing for you."

The exhaust lingering in my throat clogs up my airway and I struggle to regain oxygen. It's a fit off coughs. My eyes tearstained by the strain, widen and I finally blow out the smoke, "What?" I croak.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **I know, why a Colt centered chapter? But y'all deserve a back story as to why Mar and him are all comfy and shit. Also, why is FF almost all slash these days? I'm no homophobe but it doesn't sway my interest.


	25. Runaway Baby

**A/N- **Filler Alert! I'm doing this whenever there's a necessary filler. Sorry guys, I know I drag.

* * *

><p><em>Keep this up for another minute or two and you'll be on your way to losing brain function. <em>Reluctantly, I breathe and follow Scott's movements as he balances himself against the railing, "Come again?" maybe he'll get that this isn't a something I'm willing to discuss.

"Marleene, Marleene…Marleene. We both know you heard," he says knowingly, "Now, tell me, what that 'I don't remember him' thing a lie all along?"

Settling in beside him, "I'll cut story time short, no it wasn't a lie. I wasn't deceiving ya' and I won't now. I've recently recollected important pieces of what was with Punk. I wish I hadn't_. _The past is better kept like that, in the past," I play with the frayed seams on my babydoll dress to keep busy.

"If Darcy wanted me back, no questions asked, I'd be over there in a minute."

I spasm as if I'd been hit, "Are you…" he simply nods, "Aw, come here. I am so sorry," I reel him into a hug.

"Eh, I understand. It stung like a bitch but I don't hold it against here," pulling away from him, I eye him with confusion, "Her papas constantly hounded her about being with some degreeless schtick," he plays it off coolly but I know it hurts. Heartbreak hurts in general but it's probably his way of coping and I'm not one to splurge people with motivational bullshit, "Now, what's the dealio with you and Phil? He left acting like he was walking off the plank and came on back with that mood he's usually in after he gets laid," I bite my cheek, it's not a time for laughter, "He mentioned that it put him off how you acted as though you'd never even met him."

This is new. My mouth takes the form of an 'O', "It wasn't an act. He was just the brother I never met. I mean, I figured it out during my stay and then it was downhill. I feel bad. I cheated on him with the brother that fucked him over. Thing is, we still have chemistry, I'm not blind but I... I refuse to believe he remembers," I sigh, "I hope he doesn't."

"You two hopeless lovers need to either get it on or get off this boat you guys are sinking in," is he referencing the _Titanic_? I pinch him and he winces, "I mean it! All these pent up feelings are deadly. You're hurting and he's hurting and don't forget Maria. She's a good girl."

"Are you purposefully trying to make me feel like a homewrecker?"

"No! I'm just telling you how it is. There's bound to be tears and shit, thought I'd let you know as of now."

I groan and whine, "Fuck me!"

"I'd love nothing more but Punk's my main man. I follow the bro code," he chuckles and I whack him.

After that, I steer our conversation to the standard 'What you been on?' and 'What's new?' until Punk and Maria come out announcing their departure. It'd been a hell of a drive for them and they want to catch up on some sleep.

"I'll see you tomorrow but it was a pleasure to finally meet you, Marleene," squeaks the bombshell of a woman before her asshole boyfriend tows her away.

Staring after the duo, "We could work, me and you," I tell Colt as he comes up to hug me goodbye. It'd be better. For one, the man doesn't glare daggers when he catches my eye and he's as single as a dollar bill.

"We would but we know we wouldn't evolve into anything more than fuck buddies," replies messing up my hair.

ΔΔΔΔ

Shutting the door quietly, I slump down on the couch and just take in the moment. I've been handed a renewed life and it's already proving to be a challenge. This homecoming had one too many curve balls that I couldn't miss if I tried. Not to forget the pressure to make ends meet for Christmas which is like days away, last time I checked. Colt's little talk drained me and dried me with all these Punk things coming to light. Maria acting sketchy makes the whole ordeal even worse. The woman's smile is pretentious and she may play a bubble brain but I know better now. Micks shoots me a displeased glare as Wes leads her to her room. What that's all about, I haven't got a clue my brain is on overdrive.

Times like these call for desperate measure, _alcoholic_ measures. I slide off the couch and crouch to the kitchen where I hid my last bottle of wine. _ Come to momma! _I grasp it and chug it down like its distilled water.

"If you're trying to get a buzz, wine ain't the way to go."

"_Ave Maria_!" I shriek nearly losing my grip, "You son of a…Wesley! What the hell?"

"Excuse me, doll," he helps me up.

I stick out my tongue, "You're a ho. I haven't got any real alcohol. _Somebody_ dumped the stash. Fucking lobster backs recreating the fucking tea party incident…" he rolls his eyes, "Stop with that judgmental shit! I have problems; I love easy solutions, sue me."

"Why don't you take the high road and actually deal with them this time around?" and I know what he's hinting at and absolutely loathing it. Am I really that transparent?

Crossing my arms, "Too many to resolve and it's mid- you know what, I might just take your advice," the light bulb is on. It's midnight. It takes him a moment to sink in for Wes but when he does, it's too late. I'm already on the phone.

"_Bueno_?" answers just the person I was looking for.

"_Tio_, it's Marleene," I start out.

"Ah, well isn't it my favorite niece. What can I help you with, _mija_?" replies my "uncle" in his distinctive accent.

I bite my nail, "_Ya sabe que_ I don't accept freebies, _tio_, but I was wondering if you have anything open tonight. I need cash," my uncle's a man of business. Money is his kind of talk.

"I'm missing a girl at _Las Palmas_, _si te_…" I groan inwardly, I'd been expecting this already, "_gustaria, ya sabes_."

"Say no more, I'm on it."

I end the call and turn to face Wes who scowls, "No need for explanations, Mar. I'll drive you but…" he shakes his head, "You didn't get admitted into that hospital for nothing and _this_, this'll send you right back to that state of mind."

ΔΔΔΔ

Before anything jumps anywhere, "_Las Palmas_" is translation for "Round of Applause". The business isn't exactly a strip bar it's more like a cabaret, supposed to be low key but very well known as it's next to a big theatre in the city. A simple cabaret, you know, where comedians, singers, poets, dancers and such come through. Now, there _are_ girls in somewhat skanky outfits but there mostly just eye-candy to fetch in more paying customers. If it isn't more obvious the location of this cabaret is in the richer, more theatrical part on the city; I've never been there only heard of it through word of mouth.

Being that I've never been there, I'm nervous. My fingers subconsciously drum on my armrest, my heartbeat has elevated, my breath coming in deep, and I'm biting my lip—can already feel it trickle blood. My mind races not knowing what to expect.

"You'll be fine…" says Wesley not taking his eyes of the long winding road

"Dips always said that it could get rowdy. What if they start grabbing on me?" I ask feeling nervous

"No offense…" he looks at me for a millisecond before switching lanes, "but you are or _were_ a prostitute…you should be used to that, shouldn't you?"

I slump in my seat, "Yeah but that doesn't mean I'm okay with men groping me." I begin whispering, "There were times when I would want them to stop…but I was too afraid, too much of a pussy to say so. I did it for the money, and for that solely," flashbacks flood my mind._If Noah hadn't fucked up, hadn't created this new me…if._

Wes takes my hand in his and rubs it, "Babygirl, if you wasn't as stubborn as you are…that could've avoided…"

"I know but taking handouts just ain't me. My old man didn't raise me to depend on others and this is me honoring my upbringing."

He sighs, "I know. We can turn back, you know?"

"We can't," I reply bleakly

"Why you doin' this? Why?" he asks

"I have a sense of responsibility over Dominick. While the grownups are struggling with me, he's fending for himself. He hasn't got word from his daddy and I'll be damned if Christmas comes around and Santa doesn't make it to him," I state. It's true. I love the kid more than I love myself but a part of me also wants to move in with my Pops, Uncle, and sister back in Maryland. I miss the trio. This has been on my mind for the longest - way before I ended it with Noah. I need some sense of normalcy; be with the people closest to my heart. Yeah, Micks, Wesley, and the tattoo co-workers are considered family to me, but never quite like my old man and sister, never.

If I don't leave, I'll go crazy. Too many streets, alleys, and hotel rooms are ridden with ill memories. Too many parks, landmarks, and strolls remind me of days past - days that'll never be. I guess, I'm trying to scoop up enough money to run because that's what I do with most of my problems: run.


	26. I Need A Dollar

When your ass numbs out and you're stuck squirming around in manner that gives the impression that you've got a mad wedgie or are doing the sitting equation of the potty dance, that's when you know that you've been sitting for too long. Lucky for me, we've arrived already. Now it's all about timing and deciding whether to jack some fool's parking space. Chicago's notorious for its' shit parking and shitty parking system.

While my chauffer for the night parks, I stare out the window at the flashing lights that the theatre has on. How my pseudo uncle ever believed his business was low key beats me, "Yo, let's get a move on. We've got a walk ahead of us and there's slush all over the place."

Crinkling my eyebrows, "By 'we' you mean, me, right?"

"By 'we' I mean, you and I have a walk ahead of us," he responds sliding out the door and making his way over to open mine, "Watch your step," he cautions.

Adamantly refusing, I keep my seat belt on and cross my arms, "You aren't babysitting me, nope."

Irritation mixed with other unpleasant feelings swirl around my best friend's almond shaped eyes, "I can see that you're unhappy about that but guess what, I don't give a shit. I'm gonna stand here 'till you decide to get out or go home," he states with determination.

"Whatever suits you," I reply, he's going to crack sooner than later. Patience isn't one of his most redeemable qualities.

"Can you make it snappy," he blurts, "I'm not diggin' the extra male attention you're chalking up."

Following his intent mean mug, I find the guys he's talking about. They come off as random schmucks: the kind that let their eyes linger on sixteen year olds – harmless creepers. Then again, these were the type of men that solicited my services, one way or the other. After they'd use me, they'd throw bills and coins and leave me there. The thought makes me shiver, "I hate you," I mumble. The comment goes through one ear and comes out the other. Wesley knows me all too well. He extends his hand so I'll be able to skip over the heap of muddy snow. It was a bad night for ballet flats, "Luz is going to lynch me one of these days if you keep this up…" the man replies with a breathy laugh like he's been humored.

Crossing the street, we assimilate with the rest of the midnight owls. Who would be out this late on Thursday? Apparently couples who seek a late night dinner, singles seeking a drink, rebellious teens who pour out of the theater, and drunks who slum around the street without a care in the world.

Flyers scale Las Palmas's obscured windows announcing special appearances and specials. My eyebrows quirk so far up, I think they might not be attached to my face anymore. I can't wrap my brain around tonight's special guests. I always liked to believe that my uncle was nothing more but an owner of a shoddy bar or sleazy strip club or even a generic taco place. I was wrong seeing the kind of guests he's hosting and the line that floods the outside of his establishment.

"You really don't have to stick around, Wes. Tomorrow, correct me if I'm wrong, you have some serious ink. It's the first one you've done in a while so…you can go and get some shuteye," I ramble, getting into line.

Amused, the kid laughs and pats my shoulder, "Nice try. It is offending but nice try. You ain't shaking me off, not by a long shot. Besides, you need a hook up if you wanna see a tip before dawn. Come on," he wraps an arm around my waist and walks me up to the burly security guard. Scornful eyes follow us, "Bo, my man, you got me or what?"

It's a small world or Wes is trying too hard. Either way the guard responds, "If you got IDs and she's single, yeah," I don't know if he's joking but I can already picture a rather uncomfortable scenario where I'm crushed under his weight.

Wes rolls his eyes and flips him the bird before digging into his pocket, "She's my baby sister, watch it," he say playfully, "Where's Lars? Has Mr. Rock Star come back from the west coast yet?"

This Bo figure eyeballs the plastic and lifts the guard rail, "I guess it's daughter like mother," he chortles and Wes groans, "but nah, Lars Mars is still on tour. Now, let me do my job."

Another guard ushers us in and opens another set of doors to reveal the cabaret itself. I underestimated the uncle big time. Forget a tasteless taco shack or undulating women sliding on poles, this cabaret embodies all that is class. I'm talking about a full bar with mirror walls, orderly arranged bottles and glassware, and marble top counters. I'm talking about booths with leather cushions that encase the dining floor with mahogany tables in the center. I'm talking about dim, centerpiece chandeliers that set up a laid back mood. I'm talking about patrons with no distinction other than business casual – none of that club shit.

"Wow," I mumble in awe.

"Yeah, yeah that'll wear off soon enough," Wesley drags me over to the bar but I'm still busy taking in the atmosphere and the God given vocalizations of Chicago's very own, Jennifer Hudson – last year's American Idol winner, "Marleene,.."

"Yeah…?"

"Close ya' damn mouth and say 'hi' to my friend Danny."

To do so proves difficult but not impossible. I turn on my heel and lean against the countertop and look into the eyes of a redheaded bartender, "Oh, hello," I smile gently at the woman.

Danny nods and returns my smile, "Can I get you guys anything?" she asks readily setting up glasses.

"I'll have whatever's cheap here," responds my friend.

The bartender looks at me with question, "I'd just like to know where the dressing room is," I answer. I've kind of seen the waitresses that consist of beauties dressed in mock pin-up wear: standard black dresses, cat eyes, and oxblood lipstick.

"Oh, you're covering for Belen…" I nod, uncle never mentioned who I'm taking over for so…whatever it could be a tranny for all I care, "I'll show you the way," she discards the dishrag that rests on her shoulder, lifts the marble top, and tells Wes to chill for a minute, and she stalks off. Maybe a second too late I realize that I am to follow her. Yeah, that's hell. Catching up to her means that I have to slide, squeeze, and sift through a sea of socializing people. The short stuff halts and waits on me, "I'm sorry," I try to make out anything coherent but just wheeze on, "I'm sorry," she giggles, "but I'm letting you in now, you're going to be the center of the bitches's toilet talk. It sucks but one more honey is one less tip for them," figures…, "Also, you're going to _have_ to be susceptible to some of these bastards' overfriendliness."

"I've gotta get this cash, so I'm sellin' this ass."

The girl nods, "On that note, if you're going to buss it, please do so discreetly," she taps his chin as if she's thinking of anything else, "It's black dress, red lipstick, and heel attire," her eyes roams the length of me, "Yeah, let's get you into something quick. Three to seven is like an express lane for tips."

Then it's off to the races, again. We end up inside a locker room similar to that of play theatres and that whole mess. Danny strides in like nothing but I linger apprehensively. The smoldering glances are enough to incinerate a girl but I'm not here to make friends and talk Cosmo so I follow Danny.

"You weren't kidding about toilet talk."

She nods apologetically and opens up a closet to Wonderland. These motherfuckers are serious about their black and red getups. Rows of black fabric and patented leather line the racks, "Choose with freedom."

Louboutin, Kors, Valentino, Choo, de la Renta, BCBG, Wang, Melani, Taylor, Jacobs, Johnson, and I'm suppose to choose? That a joke? I could steal three pieces and pawn them off for more than I've made in the last year. I'll be damned if I leave here without anything. Uncle's abundant clothing and money is my abundant clothing and money.

"So, where is the changing station of whatever?" I inquire with a simple fitted halter dress and red heels in hand. It's a goddamn good thing I have the pantyhose. Always gotta be prepared.

"Here."

"What?" My face falls, "Are you playing with me?"

She shrugs, "Wish I was."

I look around at the women still present in the room, all their little over coated, raccoon, beady eyes glimmer with amusement and anticipation. Hell no! Fuck this. Bad enough I have to stoop to this shit, I'm going out with dignity. With that, I shuffle back into the closet, all in the name of self preservation.

ΔΔΔΔ

"…add a pinch of dirty, sprinkle in some charm, mix in pointless chatter, and serve those drinks. Nothing to it, really. You already own the sexy so it'll be easy peasy lemon squeezy," reassures this one chick, Barbs, who's in charge of the resident lovelies.

"That all?" please let it be!

Grimacing, "Eh, not quite. Th-"

I frown, holding in my groan, "This is torturous. All I'm really here for is the cash."

"I understand but there's a catch," catches aren't ever good, "After Jennifer closes for a break, Belen usually is the break act. Since Belen isn't here, _you're_ the break act," the charge grins toothily.

Torturous steps up to tortuously grueling. It's suddenly too stuffy, sauna stuffy. I can't even gulp; my saliva is like dried glue. Why didn't I ask for specifics on this job? I would scrape toilets at McDonald's in exchange for not making an ass out of myself in front of a full house. There's a reason why I never quite fit in with the frill wearing girls that go invited to every basement party in high school, I don't thrive on attention, "What?"

She rubs her arm, "Yeah, um, you're to entertain our lovely paying audience."

If you shake a bunny and it gets overworked or overexcited, it's heart stops long enough for it to calm down, I don't think it's the same for humans but I'm already on my way to finding out. I am frantic, "Dude, I am stage…I have stage fright like fright of the stage! Like, I could barely make it through speech week in high school!"

However nice the intention was, Barb tried to soothe me with the news that I am in charge for tonight's VIPs which, in any other given situation, would've been a godsend, only added to my nervous breakdown. Trust me, I'd thrown off my panties and gotten myself a heatstroke over these beings. People aren't even off beat about them which comes to show how used to the famous crowd they are.

"When…when am I getting paid?" I ask. For all my troubles, I won't even earn a third for them.

"Usually around eight but it all depends. Don't worry, look on the bright side of this, you might be going home as arm candy for one of those two sexy sons of bitches," she lets out an airy schoolgirl giggle

I grimace as though going home with any one of them would be horrific, "This is going to be one long, long night…" a server balancing a tray full of drinks saunters by and I take the second's opportunity to steal one and chug it down, "That's definitely not going to cut it."

A skeletal hand pats my shoulder, "That's how all of us feel, pumpkin. You gotta do what you gotta do," Barbs looks off into the distance, the VIP table, "Start them off with a Four Horsemen," she turns to me and nods before strutting off into a mix of bodies.

For minutes, I just stand mentally preparing dialogue since I don't want to come off as just another fangirl, those are a dime in a dozen. It ends off with me pushing past patrons just trying to get to the bar where I spot Wes and Danielle having a laugh between her serving and him drinking. _This could end off well; Wes might leave Luz, finally. _

Knocking on the bar, "Slide two Four Horsemen my way, please," I ask Danielle and she readily complies. I rotate to Wes, "You'll never guess who I have the pleasure of keeping company!"

"Who?" he asks warily. I point out the table and his drink nearly slips, "You better walk out of here with half a stack of merch and autographs!"

"Drinks up, girl," taps Danielle, "Be careful, unless you have experience or really awesome balance."

I take her words into consideration and start my way toward the waiting guests. Weaving through these tables has me feeling like road kill, these eyes follow me like vultures. I guess if they're regulars they can tell I'm a newbie and are waiting for me to face plant or maybe it's the fact that every step taken, a centimeter of my dress hikes up.

_Time to pull it down, Marleene. Pull it down, now. Your panties are a step away from greeting the world! _Figuring that preserving my decency is a must, I balance the tray with one, keep traveling, and pull down my dress with the free hand. In countless movies and shoes, people make it out to be pretty easy.

Apparently, I should stop following those examples. I've just victimized a poor soul in a head on collision. One moment I'm fine, the next I hit a brick like body and send both of us toppling to the floor, creating a symphony of groans and breaking glass, as well as 'oohs' and 'ahs'.

"I am so very, very, frea- super sorry!" I stutter. I don't know what's more embarrassing, the fact that I'm head over heels trying to apologize to a patron who's formal wear has been soiled with liquor or the fact that I'm gathering shards of glass, indecently exposed, with said patron helping my cause. I think the latter.

A calloused, tattooed hand reaches out to me. My eyes widen, deciphering the writing on the flesh '_DRUG_' and I'll be damned if the other set isn't '_FREE_'. Of all the places in this limitless city…, "It's alright. It's okay. Get up befo- Marleene?" the previously nameless patron's eyes bore into mine as my own snap shut. Of course it had to be the ever witty, charming, CM Punk.

ΔΔΔΔ

Maybe I was gullible enough to believe if I walked fast enough I could lose him because he's been skirting my tail without signs of stopping. Not only are guests eyeing us but the kid's raucously asking for a reason as to why I'm here and it's successfully making me look like an ex girlfriend set on stalking the whereabouts of her lost lover.

"I'd really appreciate it if you'd just tone your shit down a dial and rotated on back to your seat and left me be," I tell him keeping a smile on to save face but what I've said came out too brusque to mask anything.

"And I don't fucking care what you'd appreciate!" he snaps and the section around us hushes up, "Just tell me what you're doing here, of all places?" he gruffly mutters.

Swinging around to face him, "Keep your damn voice down; this isn't the wild where whoever's shout is the alpha! As for why I'm here, why the hell do you care?" quieting down, "I won't be anything but moving matter in your world long as you stay out of my way. Now, please for the sake of civility, go back and sit your ass down," with that, I turn and make a hasty escape but his paw latches onto my arm and twirls me around, "Don't. Touch. Me." I snarl and shove him back.

Abiding by my feral request, he steps back with his hands raised to eye level as though to show he isn't going to provoke me. If I weren't as unhinged as I am, I'd be surprised by the fact that his ever present smirk isn't present. In it's presence is a grimace and a whole lot of anger lines. He's seriously bothered by me, "I'll leave you alone once you tell me why you're here and not back at Mackenzie's."

Crossing my arms defiantly, I glare flaming darts into the muddy olive irises of his, "The FBI sent me undercover tonight. They deemed my 'insanity' a worthy trait and so I'm here…" he doesn't seem amused so I roll my eyes, "Isn't it obvious enough, I'm working graveyard for extra singles for some presents and my personal benefit. See, nothing important for you to know. So, excuse me but I got David Bautista and Randy Orton waiting on me and their drinks," I hustle off or at least attempt to.

I'm unceremoniously spun back into his taut, silver dress shirt clad body. Other days, I'd be foaming at the mouth at such intimate contact – not today. Previously bothered eyes are not physically impossible to glare at due to the intensity that's enough to simmer eyes dry. The man blatantly asks me if the only reason I'm there is to roll in the hay with tonight's VIPs. The nerve of him.

When I refuse to respond to his insensitive query, he impetuously chains down my wrists with all he's got. The pain is enough to bruise, "Phil…Phil! You're hurting me!" even with that, he doesn't budge.

"You're un-fucking-believable. Some would call you vapid. I mean, this is what you're doing after your release? Don't you care about the people who just about ripped themselves apart for you?" I don't respond, he's got me wrong. Oh so wrong, "You're kidding yourself, you know," he chuckles without a trace of humor, "You might know how to play the part but in the end you'll be another annexed ring rat for when they come back to the city. You know that, you _should_, shouldn't you? All those men who breezed through you taught you that much, right?" whether it's a rhetorical question or not, I don't respond. I'll stone this out, "Nobody wifes a woman who hasn't a morsel of dignity, sweetheart."

All those philosophers, poets, writers, thinkers who came up with all those poignant quotes on the truth that people post on their MySpace, have got one thing going for them: it hurts and shit, it hurts beyond that of something physical.

Whatever intentions I have or had for tonight never included going home with anybody in particular. Given the opportunity though, I'd one or both of the two wrestlers. No shame in that, anybody would chop off their left hand just for a minute or two of their time – hell, women have literally thrown their panties and bras at countless celebs. Human nature.

Regardless, my instinctive pride-run defense mechanism won't let me bow down, "Fuck you and fuck your irrelevant opinion. Label me, fucking label the shit out of me," I spit venomously, "What if I fuck the whole lot? To each his own as long nothing comes of it. You're right on one thing, I'll be another on their proverbial post. Hey, I'm not sweating that 'cus so will they. My post is fairly extensive and could use A-listers. I'm twenty-two and know for damn sure what I'm getting myself into, thank you very much. You're not my brother, father, and you lost all type of control over my actions when you fucking left me!" and there you have it, I've said too much. This is a flaw of mine, holding grudges and not being able to filter my thoughts when I'm pissed off. This'll be my downfall.

His grip loosens up and face falls but I don't give it much thought because I flee only turning back to catch a glimpse of Punk running a hand through his gelled hair and stomping off in the direction of his table, presumably.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_So the__ VIPs, nice? I know it seems far out for Punk to be there but keep going on!_


	27. Super Rich Kids

Breathing profoundly, I strut my way through tables to the VIP section near the stage. This time, I calculate each stride. I can't afford another mishap but the closer I get, the more I feel my legs wobble. The TV doesn't do them any justice. Not only in looks but size as well! They seem so out of place, the two giants modestly covered in the standard Evolution garb.

The youngest of the two, Randy, murmurs something to Batista – Dave – and they subsequently bobble their heads in my direction. My heart pounds away so violently, it might crack through my ribcage but I don't deter, instead I paste on a coy grin.

"It's a chilly night out here in the Chi, isn't it?" I comment, better to start small talk them faint from anxiety. I lean over the table to set the tray of Four Horsemen in front of them, "Compliments of Las Palmas, Four Horsemen for tonight's special guests. I'll be at your undisputed service. My name's Marleene but _you_, you can call me whatever pleases you," I add the batting lashes for extra effect.

Randy pounces first, "Oh really?" his predatory smirk never faltering, "In that case, _doll face_, it'll surely be a pleasure," _think of something repulsive, repulsive…think!_, "I'm Randy and this is my buddy, Dave."

"Yes, it's a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart," Dave replies, taking a glass of the tray.

"Pleasure's all mine, really. I'm a big fan," I dish out and mentally kick myself for it.

The duo chuckles but ultimately, Dave replies, "That line gets tossed around every so-called celebrity rolls through this joint, doesn't it?"

I tap my chin for a minute or two, trying to come up with something witty, "Considering that I've never met a celebrity, I'll have to get back to you on that," I grin cheekily which humors them, "Can I fetch you gentlemen anything?" I don't even know if this shit has a menu, fuck!

The muscle builder springs on asking for the strongest concoction this place offers stating that he's all nerves. I wonder why but then again it wouldn't be appropriate to ask. I turn to Randy, "You happen to be on the menu, doll face?" yeah, he's cocky alright.

"No, sorry," I reply but he could make it so I am…he has the money to.

"Aw, man! I'll just start off with a scotch, tell the bartenders to mix it however they like – I like surprises."

ΔΔΔΔ

"Bottoms up, boys!" I announce, setting down the tray of liquor.

The WWE Superstars attack it like they haven't had so much as a drip of water in years. Dave takes a swig of his drink and then scrunches up his face. He blinks a couple of times while the concoction stimulates his brain and courses through his bloodstream, "That is definitely some strong shit."

I reach out to rub his massive bicep, the muscles constricting under my fingertips, "Like you ordered," pulling my hand away, I fix my dress, "Anything else?"

Both of them shake their heads, "Can I buy you a drink though?" inquires Randy.

The idea sounds rather lovely, after such commotion but if I'm true to myself, one drink would lead on to another seven. Getting hammered on the job, even though it's technically "family owned", just seems ungrateful. Especially getting hammered in front of men of such power, "Love to but can't, handsome. Sorry," I smile meekly and set out to return to rant to Wes but a large, foreign hand pulls me back, "Yes?"

"Stay with us. Stay and we can just chat," Randy's grin suggests otherwise. Scratching my head, surveying the area for anybody to take my place, I slide in with Randy and mention that they're lucky that I'm being paid to entertain the likes of them, all in good nature of course. It isn't a chore to entertain the men I fawn over on Mondays and Fridays.

"So, what's a lovely thing like you doing here? It's graveyard, you're going to get puffy eyes, sweetheart," says David.

Shrugging, "Raking in extra cash however I can."

"Can I ask what for?"

I nod, "My nephew asked Santa to bring his old man home this Christmas. Keep in mind, the military doesn't give a flying fuck about what families want, which is acceptable…I guess. Any who, I'm low in the finance area so…I am here for my little angel," the men nod in acknowledgement, "Santa might not bring Daddy home but a new game would suffice, I guess."

"That's tough shit. I mean, I was in the military for a period and then AWOL-ed. Shit ain't as cool as Hollywood makes it out to be," Dave and I nod, "With a kid…I don't think I'd have the balls to deploy,"

"I don't think you'd be able to leave women," ribs Batista and we both laugh at Randy's expense.

Hoping to float away from the seriousness and personal-ness of my situation, I ask them, "So, what are ya'll doing out here? One would think that you'd be jetting off to someplace where tanning lotion is abundant, palm trees aren't potted, and itty-bitty string bikinis are day wear."

The men smile, "Believe me, honey, I'd be catching the next plane off to Rio or something if not for the two girls waiting for me here," of course, "They been begging and whining since December of last year for Daddy to come home. So, here I am," Batista digs into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and pulls out a photo, "Keilani and Athena, I think they gave me a better reason to ditch Angs, to be honest."

I eyeball the picture and my eyeball almost pops out. These girls are well…_girls_. Beautiful and well…_girls_. If I'd been an officer, no doubt I'd be obligated to cuff this guy. The girls barely look a day over sixteen. Unless, those girls have been blessed with anti-aging genetics or makeup artists have improved their techniques. An odd shiver rolls through me as I hand the photograph back, "They're, um, young…" I know, smooth as fuck.

One of Sir Batista's perfectly shaped eyebrows lifts, "I don't look _that_ old, do I?"

"You actually do," responds Randy jokingly and he receives the finger.

"Well, yeah, I'm here visiting my little ones. Their mom welcomed me in which means she either wants more money or re-negotiate our prenup,"

My mouth hangs wide open allowing my tongue to roll out like the fucking red carpet, "They…they're your…daughters?"

The duo have themselves a laugh before settling down, "I try to keep my personal life low key, I'd appreciate it if you would refrain from feeding the discovery to those no-lives that run those dirt sheet sites."

Shaking my head so much that it might just break off, I muse, "But it's so weird to think of you as a sex symbol when you got girls that call you 'Daddy'. Would that make it a _D_ILF?"

"Well I am flattered," shutting my mouth, I feel my upper body heating up, my face is probably crimson red by now. The guy doesn't proceed to get a rise out of my embarrassment. He looks down at his crotch that has lightened up, "Excuse me, I have to take a call. Don't miss me too much," Dave winks and slides up and out.

And then there were two. It's me all by my lonesome with the epitome of sex on legs. He's taken to hitting on me, flattering it is, and whispering in my ear things that only a woman could dream of. Fame hypes up one's ego and Randy is no exception.

"Well, well, well look who we have here! It's Randall, nearest and dearest to my heart!" rings an all too familiar voice. I look up and it's Mr. Straight Edge himself. I have to hand it to him, he just saved me from answering a rather uncomfortable question, "And oh look, it's Mary Magdalene," he states in mock surprise.

Biting the inside of my cheek to keep from causing another disturbance, "Did you go out of your way just to be spiteful, _Phillip_?"

Laughing as though I've told him the joke of the century, Punk holds his heart dramatically, "No, I just happened to stop by. Don't mind me, get back to your usual business, I'm surprised ol' Randall here hasn't got you one article of clothing away from naked."

Here I am, taken aback. Not even, it's more like gob smacked. Like, why? I can't even…, "Better watch the next thing that comes out your mouth, boy," steps in the blue eyed wrestler, his demeanor rigid.

"Or what, killer? You're going to slap me or something?" challenges Punk.

My ex boyfriend's taunting is luring Randy in. He's getting the reaction he wants as the blue eyed hunk of a man begins to get up. I hold said wrestler down and slide over him to stand between him and Punk, "Stop it," I urge the man who resembles the late Curt Cobain, "Have you lost your fucking mind? This is my job and part of it is entertaining our special guest, Punk. You don't know him and quite frankly, he can have your ass arrested for shit like this. Go away!"

Inscribed fingers tap my head, like one does to a dog, and the owner grins, "But why would Randall do such a thing. We know each other after all, isn't that right," he looks over to Randy who's visibly annoyed.

"We do. Punk bitch has groupied along with us on a couple occasions. Heyman thinks he's the next big thing but Vince knows that signing his hobo lookin' ass will be the company's biggest fluke."

Sending a warning glare at Randy, I try to coax Punk into leaving peacefully. I didn't sign up for all this dramatic bullshit but as luck would have it, here it is staring me in the face with a grand smirk, waiting…waiting for another blow up. Fucking catalyst.

"Fluke, really, Randall? You offend me, no, you really do," snickers the antagonistic Straight Edge, "There's a reason why Heyman has such high hopes for me, but I don't need to explain myself. Especial don't need to explain to a kid that lucked out having Cowboy Bob Orton for a father. Tell him I said 'howdy'," on that note alone, Punk begins to stalk off but Randy reaches out to him faster than I can flinch, "Oh, did I say something?" asks Punk turning around.

Putting myself in the line of fire, I try to get Randy to budge but the man's dead set on annihilating the man in front of him, "Guys, quit it! Y'all gonna get our happy asses kicked out!" but they won't let up. It's like a game to them, "Guys!" the third generation Superstar backs the fuck up, fuming, refusing to let go of the situation. On the other plate, Punk smirks ever so joyfully at the problem he's upraised, "Please, I'm asking you, go back to whatever hole you came out of."

"I'm sorry, Marleene. Sorry, I didn't mean to wreck tonight's business arrangement. I just wanted to see, up close and personal how a ring rat does her thing," How could…? For a slight moment, a slight second, I allow his words to faze me. Between what he said earlier and now, I done had enough. I land one on him quicker than he can react, leaving a handprint. His head whips to the side and a hand covers the area, he stares at me sternly, "Struck a nerve, haven't I?"

Before I have time to go in for another, I hear a voice call out to me. Squeaky and girlish. I survey the area to find another unexpected guest, unwanted as well, Maria. _Fucking Jesus! _Dave is at her side looking alarmed. I paste a smile on my face while behind me, Randy wipes his face and Punk retreats, "Marleene, I didn't know you were going to be here! What a coincidence," she turns to Phil, "Why didn't you tell me?" her photogenic smile never leaves her face, I wonder how she does it even when she's upset. Does she even get upset?

"You know her?" inquires Dave and Maria nods, "Small world, isn't it?" he goes over and shakes Punk's hand before settling back into the both, motioning for Randy to do the same, "You two behaved, right?" to who he's referring to, I have no idea.

"Yeah," both indie and third generation wrestler murmur.

Sensing the tension in the air, Maria starts up an easy going conversation. Typical 'what're you doing here?' and whatnot. I give my usual reply of needing money and ask her the same. She twirls around in her aqua dress and mentions how _Punkers _spontaneously wanted a night out.

"That's nice. It's creepy cool how you and Dave just happened to meet up. You guys work together, Randy included, and here you are. If I didn't know better, I'd say you guys set this off," I mention with a light air of humor, "I mean, I didn't even think that I'd meet these guys much less sit and chat with them."

One thing about women, or a couple, is that we will smile, swirl, giggle, mingle, bake you apple pies, maybe wash your clothes, and even go along to your every word but when you want some sort of truth, it's all in the eyes. Why do I say this? Maria's looking pretty put off. Though, to a person who'd take in just her bubbly personality and dreamy owl eyes, they would never see it.

"Yeah," she teases her hair, "I didn't expect to see these guys on an everyday basis until February but here we are…" yeah, here we are.

Punk cranes his neck to stare at her, "What do you mean by that, _babe_?"

The celebrities of the group exchange glances, rocking on their heels. They know what Punk doesn't. Shit's going to hit the fan, "Not now, Phil."

"What?" he asks astonished, "It's clear to me that I'm missing a piece of this puzzle," Randy finding the couples pending quarrel humorous, he sniggers under his breath. My elbow jabs him in the ribs, or what feels like them. Setting his jaw, Punks snarls at the blue eyed man, "What's so fucking humorous, those voices telling you some kind of joke, Randall?"

"Guys, guys why don't we cool down, order us some shots, some Pepsi for you Punk, and enjoy the show?" suggests Dave, with Maria and I completely on board.

Skeletal fingers poke my shoulder blade and I whirl around to face a crimson red Barbs, "Hey, what's up?" I ask the twiddling lady and she stares on at the men before her. Humming with impatience, I ask again and she simply replies that it's time. Time as in, Jennifer's inevitable break has arrived and I'm the next act. This feeling in the pit of my stomach must be the same feeling one gets when they know just how fucked they are.

Phil's still uptight about Maria's silence and the two WWE gentlemen still rock on as I begin to lose sight of them, I'm going to get myself a drink. Hell, I'll put the whole bar on uncle's tab for all I care. Fuck my life.

* * *

><p><strong>AN-** _I don't know how relevant our little boy toys will be to the story but I thought they'd make for a good guest appearance. Is Maria really all that shady? What's Marleene gonna come up with? She gonna bust out some magic tricks? Read on!_


	28. I Heard Love is Blind

"You, bartender, slide me another shot. Don't bother making it pretty this time…roofie it if you pity me," I mumble slamming down the tiny glass that has nothing but drops of the venomous liquor that has done but nettle up my throat.

"Um, another Jo-" the kid doesn't even bother; the glare I'm sending down his alley is enough of an answer. Fucking dumbass. I've been sitting here with him for the past four drinks and he just likes to get barked at or something. He serves up and meekly says, "Drinks up."

"Here's looking at you, kid…" I don't know, it sounded classy it enough. All I need is a black dude on a keyboard or piano to mumble that other line to.

"There you are!" I quirk an eyebrow, not even bothering a side glance. I got eyes in the back of my head. Woo here I am, "Mar, I know you can hear me. Baby girl…ey…Karime!" it's none other than the wonderful, Wesley! Yeah, he's going to keep this shouting of an array of names until I respond or kill him, "Marleene fucking listen to me!" it's a strategy that works like ninety-nine percent of the time, "_Hazme pinche caso, cabrona!_"

"What?" I reply with a bite at the end of it, not literally but it has the same effect.

He sighs and leans over the counter, closer in my proximity, "You got to get a handle on yourself because whether you like it or not, you're going on that stage. Now, tell me what in the fuck you're going to for, like, five or seven minutes? You have half an hour but, with all your moping, you have twenty one minutes."

_Great, like you needed to know how much more fucked you are_. Sliding off the stool, I brace myself against the bar top. Any ounce of muscle and fat, I've accumulated throughout the years is now but pounds of gelatin. Whatever though, that doesn't deter me from stomping off, or attempting, toward the backstage area where entertainers psyche themselves in order to perform for audiences who haven't an idea as to how much it is to be one.

Wes slaps down a modest tip to cover the abuse the young bartender has endured at the hands of my own temperamental self, and scurries to catch up to me before I topple over, "And you said you didn't need a babysitter…" he huffs, snaking an arm around me to keep me upright and avoid the stinging glare sent his way, "What's your grand scheme?"

"If I didn't know two seconds ago, what in the blue hell make you think I know now?" I boom, I think the hertz or frequency or whatever is enough to deafen a person. If it isn't, it's a least sound enough to silence the clamor of these drinking and mingling idiots.

Awkwardly smiling, Wes drags me away – reprimanding every step of it. I think the end isn't in sight, "And you said you didn't need a babysitter…" he goes on and on. My old man never really had the lungs to lecture me but boy, Wes has a set on him, "And you're zoning me out…"

"Pretty much."

"That's it, you're singing that one song you made me learn on the guitar. I don't wanna hear anymore of your dramatic jazz. I told you, 'We can turn back' but no! So, we're here and this is you're damn fault. Deal with it."

ΔΔΔΔ

From a bird's eye view, the backstage crew would look like a pack of hyperactive, scurrying house mice. Stagehands prepared to drop dead if given a second. Everyone's a busybody back here. I can only imagine how it is when the place hosts bigger acts. Not that Jennifer isn't big, she is. Her voice is vociferously beautiful but the amount of techs toning her down her vibrato, caterers picking olives from plates, stylist sweating over her undone touch ups – it's just, wow.

"See those guys?" ask Wesley, pointing out a clique of band mates wearing the generic white shirt and bow tie attire pretending not to mull over the fact that they weren't chosen to play and wondering when they'll be homeward bound, "A select few will have the honor of being your band tonight," he says casually and takes initiative and goes over to them.

A caterer passes me by but I pull him back, "Find anything that's strong enough to knock me out into next Sunday, dump it in a water bottle, and you'll earn yourself a very generous tip."

"Anybody know of a Amy Winehouse?" I overhear and the caterer slides off, "Come on, your girlfriends probably play her shit!" this time around a handful raise their hands cautiously, "Appreciating the honesty…so, how 'bout track five?" Tracking back, I'm missing that album. No wonder he knows, "Good, good. It was easy to get but I need a drum, trumpet, and appreciate a sax."

It's all crickets until a brave lad stands up, "Um, I could take a fair shot at the sax," he's a brother from overseas, nice.

"I'll lay down the beat, how hard can it be?" jumps another kid; he probably isn't even old enough to drink out of a sippy cup yet.

Clapping his hands together, Wes smiles proudly, "Anybody got an acoustic that I can use?"

Immediately, a case, that has seen plentiful days in its existence, slides close to his feet. The owner, an older gentleman, says, "Her name's Betsy, she looks but ain't a cheap ride. I expect her to stay in mint condition,"

Wes nods and turns back to me with the grandest shit eating smirk – I wouldn't be surprised if the corners ripped, "You gonna just bum it or actually warm up the chords?"

ΔΔΔΔ

The last notes of the single sax player fade out eliciting a thunderous applause and standing ovation for the woman, who tonight, belted her heart out without missing a note. I peek through a crevice in the curtains at how she soaks up the praise like a sponge almost and then the moment's over, like that. Ms. Hudson dismisses herself with another humbled curtsy and turns to give thanks to her band.

"I am so fucked!" I shriek, holding myself upright by only the support of the velvet curtains, "I can't…I…I can't do…this!" I hyperventilate.

"Too late," chuckles Wesley. That bastard _would _be entertained by this.

"_Too late_?" bellow as though the world is crumbling before me, "That, my friend, is of no fucking help!" I begin to pace.

"Um, hey there, sweetheart. You gonna be alright there?" it's her, Jennifer fucking Hudson. I stop dead in my tracks, not able to move an inch, "You murder somebody or find out you're knocked up?" she inquires and I manage to mumble that I have stage fright to which she laughs to, all in good nature…I pray, "Honey, if you got a voice, they're ain't nothin' to be afraid of. Listen," she grabs my shoulders to keep me immobile, "Imagine you're serenading your hubby or better yet, imagine the crowd is in their skivvies!"

A pat on the shoulder as thought she'd transfer confidence to me and she's off shaking hands, smiling, and whatnot. I turn to Wes who's fully engrossed by the size of her hind side. _It's going to be a night of nights, kid_.

"Where's Belen?" shrieks a strung out, uptight looking man, "Where is she?" he shrieks an octave higher.

Belen's the girl I'm replacing, right? _Sure? _I raise my hand in the air, "Yo, I'm standing in for her!"

Dramatically, the man gasps and clutches his chest. I mean no disrespect but this guy is definitely on the other side of the road, if you're catching my drift. Sometimes, guys like these make the stereotype all the more true, or well prove it.

"Where is she?" he inquires as if I knew. Shit, I don't even know anybody with that name. It's the name of the place where baby Jesus was born, right? I shrug, "Who…who are you?" he asks, there's a hint of disgust in his tone like he's savored some ungodly wine, "Is _that _what you're wearing?" he piles on.

Frowning, "Look, I've had a shit ass day. Save me and you the prima donna act for some other day, yeah? My name is Marleene Soto, I know…what a pleasure. To answer your last question, yes I am."

His beady, blue eyes narrow, "Okay, _Marleene_, what will you be doing tonight?"

"Singing you fucks a song."

Another distasteful glare and he's through the curtains warming up the crowd and it dawns on me…this is my turn. Many dream of the spotlight, even if it's far from sparkles and silver platters. Me, I like to remain in the background…observing.

Spinning on my heel, I scour the room for Bossman only to find him fraternizing with my makeshift band. Stagehands, never in one place, haul ass to set up the drum kit just behind the curtain. I can hear how Mr. Flamboyance has the crown hooting and hollering. I can't even remember the lyrics; I can barely remember my name!

"…and filling in for Ms. Hudson, the ever lovely, Marleene Soto! Give her a warm round of applause!" _Shit…_

Parting the curtains, I shuffle through. _Shit, shit, holy fucking shit! _The crowd is even more intimidating than when I was on ground level with them. They remind me of all the assholes that picked on me as a kid and all throughout the time I've been roaming the land. All of those curiosity ignited eyes stare on waiting, waiting, waiting for the unexpected to happen. _Not everyone is evil, kid. _

"She will be serenading you tonight," announces the squeaky voiced man and basically shoves the mic into my left tit. Asshole.

This is the part where I'll say that I threw up chunks or pissed myself but to be honest, I just stand here. The audience makes a spectacle of me almost as if I'm some kind of prototype at an art exhibit – the human body _is _a work of art so bad analogy.

"Um…hello. I'm Marleene and um…fuck, fuck…" fuck! I am so not ever going to do this, "I'm really nervous," I manage. I got the whole awkward chuckle going on and the peeps eat it up. It's like a personal pat on the back for support, "I'm going to sing a special song, yes…special," very special, "It's dedicated to someone I hurt. I think, um, I think we can all relate. Enjoy?"

Glancing back, my makeshift bad is locked and loaded. They wait for my call and I receive a wink from Bossman. He even lip sings the first couple of lyrics to me and I feel like I can go…I mean, I kinda have to.

If I do or don't hit the notes, if I fail, if I succeed – here goes nothing…

ΔΔΔΔ

_I couldn't resist him_

_His eyes were just like yours_

Those eyes, those familiar yet so foreign olive green eyes stare back at me. They don't stare, they're so glazed – might as well be blind. They're so closely connected to the same eyes that enticed me to the point of paralyzing every inch of nerve in my body.

His hands work away at unbuttoning, if you can even call it that, my favorite flannel. I don't move, I'm so captivated by those eyes…or searching for something in them, I guess…

_His hair was exactly the shade of brown __  
>He's just not as tall, but I couldn't tell<br>It was dark and I was lying down _

Lips travel from my newly unclothed navel, through the valley between my breasts, and back up to capture my lips. I feel myself tinted with disappointment and relief that I don't have to stand on my tippy toes.

Crafty, cold fingers sneak into my panties and I nearly lose my sanity. I wanna pull his hair for this but there's barely anything to deem as hair. I look back into his eyes and though they might not paralyze but this makes me buckle at the knees and finally fall back into the unmade bed.

_You are everything - he means nothing to me  
>I can't even remember his name<em>

Forget waiting, fuck that. I kick off the remainder of my pants and panties and lead his hands where I want them. This burning sensation, this butterfly garden is unbearable.

He chuckles against my neck but complies. One finger, two finger. He's muttering obscenities, trying to lace them into soliloquies and sonnets, into my ears but I can't understand. I can't comprehend…I don't want to. I don't want to hear…I want to feel.

My hips rise and buck like they're being electrocuted against his hand that continues to pleasure me relentlessly. It's there, my orgasm. Growing and growing…and he stops, "Say me name," he commands.

For the life of me, I can't even…My body instinctively keeps on bucking. The fireball is wearing out, "Please?"

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, "Say my name."

It's on the tip of my own tongue but then so far off. Saying it would ruin all of this. It'd be betrayal.

_Why are you so upset?  
>Baby, you weren't there and I was thinking of you when I came.<em>

Every airy groan against my ear, every sloppy kiss on my neck, every sensual touch on my skin, every swipe at my clit brings me closer and closer to the end. My brain is in survival mode. No more thinking just going with the flow.

My fingers tighten around the sheets, it's coming. My legs wind themselves tighter around his toned body bringing him closer into my web. His thrusts are swift from the sweat that gleams off out bodies.

It's here, my nails raking across his back announce it, "Oh Punk…" I moan ever so quietly with my eyes closed tighter as they always do when I'm coming down.

"Punk?"

_What do you expect?  
>You left me here alone…<em>

His sandpaper like thumb wipes away the tears that dare stain my cheeks. Much as I blink, they won't disappear. In fact, they multiply and crystallize. I don't know what hurts, what's killing me more, his anguished eyes or the fact that his happiness is being spoiled by me.

"I have to go," he murmurs. Spectators on the Greyhound pester us. He's the last one.

"Tell me and I'll board that bus too," I reply wistfully. I know the answer but I'm a full glass kind of cat.

He embraces me, digs his fingers into my bird's nest of hair, "You know I can't do that, doll," all I catch is him wanting to leave, leave without me. I'd probably be too much baggage – I _am _too much baggage.

"We can…we can make it," I mumble against his chest. His heartbeat, the sound I most adore, will be something to yearn for, "I'll learn to cook, to clean…I'll be everything! Don't leave me here alone," I'm needy, I know. This is what abandonment has done to me.

Clasping his hands on my shoulders, he looks deep into my eyes, "I am not leaving you, don't you ever think that. I'm heading out to catch a dream and believe me, doll, I'm coming back for you. You ain't escaping me. I just need to do this on my own. I need you to finish school. After all of that, don't bother learning to anything. We can be fatasses and order out every day and get maid service," he manages a somber smile but it doesn't make it to his eyes.

This is really it. This is the point where I let him fly because if I keep him, he'll resent me. I wipe my eyes, "If I make you stay, you'll resent me…won't you?" he stares down at his beat up shoes because we both know I'm stalling, "Go. Go catch dreams, save them. Just…just promise there won't be anybody else," my lips tremble, "I love you and I hope that's enough for you. I…I know we haven't…"

His lips crash onto mine. It's a forceful one, wrapped in need and longing. This kiss is like a lifeline. I take squeeze it for what it's worth, this'll be the last time I feel their softness in a long time. His hands caress my face like it's made of porcelain, "I love _you_, you got that? I love you. I don't care what we haven't or have done. Girls come and go, you've stayed. You know me like an encyclopedia. I love you," forehead to forehead, "Don't stop your life just sitting around waiting for me. Live life like you want to. Just make sure to save a spot for this fool, okay?"

"I love you."

Some time after, I lost track of time, I'm still here in the pouring rain. Still here on the plank where he loved me, hugged me, left me. That bus is now but a memory, a ghost. I hold onto his words like they're in the bible.

_I drank so much and needed to touch._

"Come on, sexy, fork up the bottle. You're nearing the danger zone, Mar, come on," he insists but I slap his advancing hands away, "Come on!"

"Let me be," I slur. This is like the nectar of life. I wish the guy at the liquor store a lifetime worth of sacking, he deserves it.

Groaning, he scoots closer to me, "You're going to throw up you intestines."

Who cares? If I die, they could use my body for parts. Tune up somebody with a new kidney, restart somebody with my heart, anything but my unsalvageable liver. Poor thing, my liver, it's far beyond repair. I'm far beyond repair come to think of it.

_How can I put it so you understand?  
>I didn't let him hold my hand.<em>

Fifteen minutes later and he's still chastising me like I'm five. His voice is painful to listen to. It doesn't have the same ring it does; maybe I'm not trashed enough. I mean, my vision is way off twenty-twenty. He's a blob or a motion blur.

Clapping a hand over his mouth, "Hush up," I remove it and kiss him sloppily. The boy tries to ply me off but I keep on. I always get what I want or in this case, my drunken brain has a way with things, "Let's go up."

Nodding in agreement, he tries to take my hand but I pull away and allow him the courtesy of snaking a hand around my waist for support. My legs aren't anything but stumps of Jell-O. Truthfully, I'm intoxicated beyond belief, he knows…that hasn't ever played a role in his conscience.

_But he looked like you; I guess he looked like you  
>No he wasn't you<em>

_But you can still trust me, this ain't infidelity  
>It's not cheating; you were on my mind<em>

In the dark, it feels much safer doing what we're doing. Yet, I cannot bring myself to look at his uncharacteristic smirk or his fully glazed eyes. Doing so, would make this all too true. This is why I get drunk; I like fantasy or the blur between reality.

Sheets crumple in my hands, sweat slides down my forehead, hips meet every thrust and ache for faster stimulation – this wave is euphoric, illicit a round of breathy moans, mewing almost.

Ecstasy is but a few seconds, my body still quivers and is too sensitized. I open my eyes and will myself to stare into the face of my lover. It's a hit of realization, like it always is; a dash of disappointment that I mask with a tired smile and yawn.

This man, he isn't the man I call out to without fail…he isn't the man my lips, body, and soul ache and yearn for. Nope, he never is.

_Yes he looked like you  
>But, I heard love is blind...<em>

ΔΔΔΔ

A surge of applause welcomes me back into reality. They're like a buzz in my left ear these clapping hands and whistles.

My eyes roam through puddles of people until I meet the distinctive eyes that send shivers up and down my spine. They lock unto mine for a mere two seconds but it's clear as day, he knows.

* * *

><p><strong>AN- **_Damn, so how did I fit in the song? Marleene's a complicated girl, I know. I'm looking forward to thoughts! I'm having fun with this!_


	29. Bottoms Up

**A/N- **_Filler Alert. Mini plot w/ the VIPs. Skip to the bottom bolded paragraph breakers!_

* * *

><p>My whole Beatles artillery later, my set is up and over with. Way more than I signed up for – I should've asked for a clear job description – because I doubt whatever I'm stacking up at the end of this gig is enough to cover a hospital should I'd gone into shock. Thankfully my stand-in band mates had a familiarity with Beatles songs. Improvisations and all, the set went smooth as could be expected but a major part of the audience seemed lost with most, if not all, the songs. This generation – the next hundred – should be taught to appreciate such classics.<p>

Tonight's singer replaces my presence and I blur off into the backstage shaking hands with lovely compliments and whatnot – anything to occupy my mind and wear off the adrenaline. My boss skedaddles into the unknown leaving me to fend for myself. Let me say, it's a pack of wolves once my heels reach the bottom steps._ The bitch left you for a session, ha! _

Men are lined up ready with drinks to offer, some are even shoved at me, like it's the Pope who's touched ground at the LAX or the JFK. It's a tedious crusade from point A to point B – the bar – but I find it in me to smile as to not have someone bludgeon me for not accepting their shady ass drink.

Danny strokes my shamed ego with various compliments and a round of whatever on the house. I said round, let's go for rounds because I'm the lone castaway on Despair Island, "Another one, please and thank you?"

"I'll be on it real quick, some of these bastards getting rowdy. I'll a second, okay?"

Waving her off, I rest my head on the countertop. Going with that first song was a fatal mistake. No, looking at him was a fatal mistake. He knows, he does – he has known. Now he knows that I know that he knows. It's all in the eyes. _You need a fucking drink, over analyzing ass. _

In the midst of sinking into my overactive mind, I'm hoisted from the quicksand by a sly dopefuck who thought it, the best approach, would be by sliding in, nice and tight, in my bubble and place his bear paw of my lap, "You have three seconds to think about the safety of your product placement, buddy," my growl is muffled which amplifies the warning.

"Whoa, whoa," he removes his hand. Good choice, "No need to neuter me, gorgeous. It's just Randy," I lift my head for confirmation and slump back into position, "You put on a good show. I was surprised. you don't come off as somebody who has the pipes."

"The shower isn't exactly a perfect judge…"

He laughs, even that simplicity is sexy and sophisticated, "Does that have a hidden message I'm not getting?"

I shoot right up with a no, he looks at me with amusement, "You have such a dirty mind…"

The six foot giant shrugs, "Can't blame me for it, you're provocative. Ask any of these fuckers and they'll write about it."

A minuscule laugh rumbles through me, "Where's Batista?"

"Am I not attractive enough to keep your fancy?" even though I can't physically see it, I can picture it…his mock pout.

"You're world renowned Randy Orton, walking wet dream. Live it, embrace it. Now, where's Mr. Dave Bautista?" Rico Suave replies with class that he's, Batista, is enjoying a potty break, "You could've been vague, you know?"

"I could've, should've, would've, _but_ I didn't!"

"Sorry for the wai – holy Jesus…" I lift up my head and spot Danny, her chipper demeanor turned into a spurned glare. A glare that has Randall Keith Orton written all over it, "Here," she sets the fragile margarita glass onto the counter with a loud clack and the poor papier-mâché umbrella pops out . Her eyes are solely for Randy.

A single sip, I put it down and it's still silent. There would be a shrub rolling by if this were out in the South, "Danny, this shit it good…props."

The clear blue eyed man lifts a brow, "Danny, huh?" he gives a light snicker, "Cute."

Said woman grinds her jaw, "Yeah and what?" _Oh boy…_

Rubbing his jaw pensively, "Nothing. Nothing at all. I just like Samantha better,"

He makes to twirl a tendril of her silky hair but she flinches away, "Don't," she orders, "Marleene, I know you're chasing money but save yourself the trouble. _This _isn't the way to the promised land," surveying the area for a quick getaway, I curse Wes, "He'll charm you and the whole nine yards till you're another sack on his bed. Then, of course, he'll slither away. You'll wake up feeling like yesterdays paper with a kid as a reminder," _did she say "kid", did she?_

Previously smirking and reveling in his giddiness, Randy sobers up and nervously shoots me a wink, like that'd do something to erase what I've just heard, "Come on, you act like you weren't in it for the cash!" she rolls her eyes, probably wishing she could do more, "I give you money don't I?" _He's a baby daddy! _The melanin from my skin disappears. What have I been doing to get tied into all these melodramas?

"If my memory serves me right, two years ago you were a rising star, a pathetic frat kid that still sucked off his mom's right tit and wiped his ass with Daddy's money! Forget that though because you giving _your _daughter a monthly obligation don't replace that her _Daddy _is irrelevant in her life!"

I'm narrating this soap, I mean I could say that Randy's frantically looking about to see if any words ran past any ears, "Be quiet! People can fucking hear you," he mumbles.

Shock, it flashes past her muddy orbs like he's sent a lightning bolt through her brain. She laughs, the kind of comic laugh that's used to bury opposite emotions. Danny, err, Samantha stops and reaches into her bra. I'm slightly uncomfortable but see a wad of bills and then a photograph, one she slaps down in front of Randy, "You're scared people will make light of this? Make light of what kind of man you are?" her head sways side to side, "Pathetic, just…" she bites her lip, "I'll tell you something; I don't care if you're in her life. I don't. She has all the love she needs and more. But there'll come a day when she realizes she doesn't have what all the other kids do. Think about that," another repulsed glare and she stomps off through a swing door.

It's all a collapse of emotions. It's quiet. People still yap on about mundane shit that with the help of alcoholic beverages seem rather amusing. Eyes still linger on perfectly sculpted bodies, legs still wander around and receive mesmerized leers – the world is still the same but I have a feeling Randy's isn't.

Lying flat on the countertop is a poorly preserved photograph, creases and crinkles adorn it. It captures within its' colors a sweet child, a girl no older than the assumed two. Her shabby hair hides her precarious smile that resembles her father's quite well, to the dimples, her squinty eyes hiding bright brown eyes. She's an Orton.

"What?" the lone question must be for the ridiculous smile etched on my face.

"Take a look for yourself, handsome."

ΔΔΔΔ

"Can't say it happened 'cus I was young 'cus I'm twenty-four years old and hell, God knows I haven't been a saint in the least bit..." rambles Randy as we head on back to his and Dave's tables, wherever he may be, "You can go ahead. Tell me, tell me that I fucked up and stuck it good."

"Ain't my place to say, Randy," I swerve to make room for a passing waitress, "I'll take away that it was a hit and quit though, right?"

The Playboy cranes his neck and I can see the faintest of smirks, "My old man and I were out here for business. She was a showgirl, those chicks that wore close to nothing and line danced. We got to talking and somehow got to fuckin'," I scoff at his bluntness to which he chuckles and ushers me into the seat.

"When did you figure out that you were a baby daddy?"

Tapping his chin, "Probably the next time we came around. The kid was like three months old? Yeah, three," he pauses for a second, "All I was looking for was a quick bone but she threw responsibility like…fuck?" he shakes his head, "Told her I wasn't looking for all _that_. I threw some bills her way and told her that she'd receive another set next month if she kept silent."

"Bastard," I hiss. He's got this look like he's been bitten and mangled. I mean, at least he's honest but, "You got a game plan? You saw her and I'm bettin' the two dollars in pocket change that I have that it was the first time."

Randy sighs and hunches back, "No idea whatsoever."

There's a clear view of two trays full of delicious looking drinks. They're calling to me, like a lull in my ear saying, "Drink me" I look over at deadbeat baby daddy and decide to comfort him…or put it straight.

"Look, Randy, we might not ever see each but if you remember anything about me it should be what I'm gonna tell ya'. Family is pushed like no other onto kids through the works of literature and television. It's always mommy, daddy, a brother, a sister, and a dog. You kid, this girl, she'll grow up seeing that. She'll resent it, believe what she will, and turn to whatever will help console her. In my case, Moms was never in my life. I'm all hard about it but in reality, yeah I wish she'd been there. Pops ain't ever know what to tell me about boys or cramps. Look where I am, look at what I'm wearing, hear what people say about me," breathing in relief, I saunter over to that tray of drinks and snatch two without so much a "thank you".

Silence overruns our table for a stretch of time. My words and tonight's circumstances probably sponge through to Randy. I lean back and enjoy the sound of Ms. Hudson's melodic voice…or try. My eyes keep on wanting to wander in a certain direction. Lucky for them, they spot a magically reappeared wrestler, Batista.

The man in question has a look of distraught and his appearance makes it apparent why he was gone for so long. He dons a vampire's kiss – a hickie. _Thought those stopped back in high school? _I thought so too but then again Noah used to…I hated hickies. They always gave one away as being some sort of slut.

Batista corners in on us and I smile, tapping my collarbone. He catches my drift and shakes his head. I zip my mouth and throw away the key, "I guess I was missed, seeing as how quiet you two are," he comments and slides in, "You put out, sweetheart," he mentions, readjusting his sleeve cuffs.

"Thank you."

"Might I ask for the name of the poor bastards that got his heart broken?"

Liquor's always sparse when it's much needed. From the corner of my eye, there's a platinum blonde taking orders. I'm here to entertain…so, why not? Snapping a finger to catch her attention, "Blondie, get over here!" jerking back she scowls, "Be a doll and get us a couple glasses and some bourbon or something, _please_."

"I saw you in the locker room. It's _your_ job to service our valuable patrons," she says all sweet and candy assed about it. She was one of those who were hawkeyed set on watching me undress in shame.

"And that's what I'm in the process of but seeing as how they have no drinks, that's where _you_ come in," I reply in the same smug tone that she deserves, she's asking for.

Ridiculous, this fake tit has some nerve to scoff at us, them. She just bites her tongue and stomps back to the bar. I hope she steps on a Leggo. I turn back to the men and they have a universal grin on their panty-droppingly handsome faces.

"What were we on?"

"You were about to tell us about song."

Oh, yeah. Right. Fuck. My eyes zero on in on that table they wanting to wander to. They observe how those beautiful, crow's feet affected eyes twinkle with laughter. Blink wondering how it was possible to be so close yet so far, in a literal sense as well as non-literal.

Poetic, in a way, how I consciously put myself through this unnecessary pain. I could be happy, _should_ be. This, chilling and laughing with WWE stars doesn't happen to any nimrod. If only I had the ability to disregard people's feelings, disregard how my actions affected those around me. Punk didn't leave me behind, he left family and friends.

"We're never going to meet again and frankly, I need to vent…" and where's that damn blonde?

ΔΔΔΔ

Time passes by – no, it speeds by without notice. How do we know this? We may be buzzed out of our rockers but we do notice how sluggish, drunken patrons stumble on their asses out of the cabaret, retaining what little dignity they have left. Jennifer Hudson has left the building. Waitresses and band members have switched out of their getups and slink by the bar; they drink and mingle like normal people. Bartenders chug half-empty bottles under the bar. We've successfully welcomed in another day…or it has us.

Somewhere between our eighth shot, Randy blanked the fuck out. Not entirely, we know he's alive as he has spurts of undivided consciousness. The Animal himself is out cold, not even a poke can save his soul. I do have make note that he didn't go down with class and sophistication, no. Poor guy gushed out secretive tales of how his marriage is circling the drain and shit like that. Seeing how I'm still fairly aware of Phil and Maria's presence, I'm not drunk enough but sure as hell no use on my feet.

Kicking someone's shin, I slur, "What time is it?" nobody's home to pick up so I struggle to kicked more fiercely, "What time is it?"

Randy spasms back to life, "Wha…what?"

"The time!"

He covers his ears, but I'm pretty sure it hurt me more than it did him, "Stop," he whines," he pulls out his phone and flounders about trying to figure out how to read and balance.

"What's…fucking time?" I shout once more and the phone jerks out of his grasp. I do the honors myself and dwell on the fact. It's six. Six in the morning. I was promised eight in the least and worse of all, I shitfaced myself into doing nothing but pour out my heart, "Fuck!"

In a hasty effort to get up, I nearly twist my ankle. High heeled shoes aren't the way to go when inhibitions are dropped out the nest. Steadying myself, I glance back to make the boys are well accounted for. They're out. With that in mind, I stumble my way to the bar. I don't know what for but it's my destination.

"Marleene!" I hear, "Marleene!" it's a woman freaking out of her pants. I stare up and it's Danny or Samantha or whatever the fuck she goes by. At least I didn't face plank before walking too far.

"Girl, hey!" I greet her, "Have you…have you seen Wes?"

She eyeballs me wearily, "You had a little too much, didn't you?" she smirks as I burp, "I'll take that as a 'yes'. And to answer that question, I saw him about four hours ago. He was headed to Dips' office."

Nodding, "Send for Orton and Bautista?"

"A cab, you mean?" I raise a brow, "Sure, why not. Go scrape them off of whatever ho they're on and get them sobered up."

Another nod and I go on about my business. Being tipsy, I find myself having to take a complete journey around to get to the passed out VIPs. In my journey through a vast amount of chairs that weren't pushed in, I find – or am found – by the one and only, couple of the moment, Maria and Punk! Whoopee!

"Marleene, you're still here?" calls out Maria just when I thought I could slide by undetected.

Well, gee, I dunno, "Yep. Here I am," I respond.

"Where's Dave?" she searches, "And Randy?"

"The table."

"Wow, you haven't fuck-" Maria elbows Phil and he winces out, "What?"

By now, I'm above being irate. This man, his audacity, "No. They're passed out so I didn't get a chance. Does that humor you enough or do you need detail how I planned to go about it?"

At this response, Punk scowls at me and I'll be damned if I don't as well. I can play with the big dogs – bitches too – but Maria steps in with her radiant smile, "Where's your friend? Do you need a ride home?"

"He's…somewhere, around here. I think. Nah, thanks but I'll probably go-"

"With Randall and Bautista, right? Yeah, babe, she doesn't need you good will. Marleene knows her way around." My ticker blows. To hell with manners. I grab his glass of soda and splash it in his smirking face. That'll show him. I stomp off, "Hey, what the fu…my Pepsi!"

**ΔΔΔΔ**

Various pitchers of water and flushing toilets later, I pace about outside freezing my tits off while my dependants – Randy and Dave – support themselves however they can. It's safe to say that the nose dive the weather has taken is keeping us sober or in the process of.

"Don't forget to keep in touch, sweetheart," chatters Dave. A while ago, they wrote – attempted – down their numbers for me.

"Yeah and don't forget to that you and that nephew have seats pending next time we're in town. Hopefully by then his old man is home and safe," adds Randy.

You always hear through word of mouth or social media how celebs can be assholes or how they get caught up in their world that normal nine-to-fivers are nothing to them. What they've done, these two athletes, is enough to leave me astonished and rather ashamed for believing all celebs are the same. I mean, nobody would go out of the way to drop their number, seats for their next show, and a grandiose tip for a girl who could very well be their next hookup, "You guys really didn't have to…"

"It's in ink for us to do shit like this, honey," deadpans Dave and for a moment, a slow one, I let it sink, "Just kidding!"

Headlights blare and a cab swooshes to a stop. The giddiness resides leaving behind a residual feeling of melancholy. Time for departure, time for forgetting and being forgotten because that's how it works out when you aren't a big baller, when you're just normal. The man known to the wrestling universe as "The Animal" steps forth and embraces me. His buddy, on the other hand, pulls me into a bear hug, "I thought you'd be heavier. I mean, with an ass like yours…" I gasp as he rumbles with laughter and sets me down, "Don't let this be the last time I hear from you," he says wagging a finger, "You're special."

"Really now?"

The guy nods his head as if it were a fact, "That or it's cus I've yet to conquer you," he blurts out with laughter, escaping my swat if only by a second.

With the two wrestlers now safely tucked away in the cab, I shut their door and bid a couple of words to save for the trip, "Take care, guys. Don't fuck with rats, visit free clinics if ya' do, keep a steady supply of condoms, and keep me in mind," I smile and tap the window so the driver will pull away, "Godspeed."

Life's funny sometimes. Hours ago, I was in a mix between being ecstatic and weary about being their charge for the night. Now? What happened throughout the night? Life's funny sometimes. Life's good.

ΔΔΔΔ

Backtracking, maybe I should've made sure to keep the entrance door open. What kind of business would leave their doors open and unguarded? Not this one. So I'm stuck either knocking on the door until somebody opens up which could be until my body is frozen or using the backstage side-door located in the alley. I'm so, very fucked either way.

What the hell, I need to get home and most importantly, I need this money! Alley it is!

Cautiously, I inch into the musky, ensconced alley. _Surprise, surprise!_ I hear voices. Screw Chicago and it's horror movie alleys and hell, screw it's weather and eternal darkness! Whatever, I'll just sneak through undetected. _You have heels, genius_. If I can hear their distinct clacking, these voice's ears can pick them up too! _Walk, walk, walk faster! _Officially freaking out; I don't like this feeling of being a cornered mouse. Shit goes down whenever a woman is in that position – I should know. _Watch the ice! _Shit.

"Ayo, I think we've got us some company!" slurs a voice, a _man's_ voice

Rule number fucking one: never fucking wear heels in shitty weather. Rule number two: if anything and you need to run, take them the hell off! Learning experience from me, I've just toppled over on my ass.

"Aye, lassy, need some help," chuckles another drunken buffoon.

_Get up! _I pick myself up, keeping a sharp eye on these men. If two overgrown, hulks of men weren't bad enough, it's a wolf pack of four. Cheap booze permeates the air. It's strong enough to kill a kidney.

"Why don't we, uh, help ya'?" pipes another.

Putting on a brave face, I manage to squeak, "I'm fine. Let me through," of course, with those leers…

One bellows with laughter, "Aw, girly, why you shaky? We just wanna help you," his tone condescending. I can make them out as familiar. They could be those guys from earlier, the ones Wes mean mugged, "Be gentlemens and help you…maybe have fun as well."

Is it possible for people to smell fear? The pack steps forward and I step back, "Stop. I'm warning you."

"What? We just wanna make sure a sexy little thing like you isn't damaged," croons one of these guys. He's even bold enough to try and reach out. I slap his hand away, "Look here, fellas, we got a feisty one!" he slaps me, hard, "I'm not found of those," he reaches for my hair and I let out a yelp, "I like them submissive," his foul smelling breath fumigating the air I breathe.

Ragdoll, the way this beast shoves me to the ground. My thigh is scathed but I manage to crab crawl a few inches. Panic courses through me like a type of drug. Off my feet, I'm rendered helpless. If I turn my back, I'll be an easier target. I mean, I already am. The way these bottom feeders crowd around me, it reminds me of how _he _hounded me before pouncing.

"Hel-" I'm cut off by a Timberland boot to the ribs. Though I wince, I can see the way their beady little eyes dilate with pleasure.

Snap a finger and one of them, they're faceless to me now, pounces on me like a wild bobcat. I shriek and hold my ground best I can. Grubby, filthy fingers struggle to free more skin, straddled legs struggle to keep my bustling body down, and wolves silently look on.

"Get…off!" I yell at the top of my lungs before they deflate. I receive a slap but I don't quit struggling. It's in human nature to struggle. Adrenaline is at an all time high and I take one last stride and punch this motherfucker where I can – his face. Not a wussy punch either, Daddy didn't raise a poor bitch.

"Bitch!" he hollers, clutching his eye.

Pushing him off, I roll onto my feet. How? Adrenaline, baby. Fight or flight. I throw chuck my shoes and sprint as fast as God will permit. Heavy footsteps follow me and so help me…!


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N- **_Couldn't help myself…twists and turns!_

_Sorry for any grammar errors!_

_Read, review, follow?_

_Please don't let me die like this! _A hand grips my airway tightly and won't let go no matter how much I kick, push, and claw. The man with the Irish accent only obstructs my airway even more. He has me on my tippy-toes up against the wall. He laughs evilly. Using his free hand, he snakes it between my knees. All my strength is put into keeping them closed but even that is useless because he pries them open. I hear the all too familiar sound of a zipper unzipping and my already struggled breathing accelerates.

"Please…no.", I wheeze out.

"What ya' say, lassy?" he asks rhetorically, he laughs as do the rest who look at me with lusty eyes. I feel his dick on the inside of my thigh and begin to scream, or attempt. He backhands me, "BE QUIET!"

Still I struggle trying to kick. I figure appears in the shadows. _HELP? _I scream and yell hoping that this will be my rescuer. The shadow creeps closer and closer until he's right in my view. _Dear God. Noah._

Noah pushes the Irishman out of the way, "I told you dumbfucks to shake her up a bit not manhandle her!", he booms.

I shrink into the wall, I'm shaking and trembling scared to death. I'm alone; I no longer have bravery like when I'm accompanied. Noah caresses my cheek with a broad smirk on his unshaven face. I recoil from his touch, "_Bebe…_Its been a minute. I missed you." He waits for my response but all I do is whimper in fear, "Why you scared? I love you, babe." _He's cynical…delusional! Is this a set up? _

"Le-le-let me go…" I whisper

He pouts, "If I let you…you'll just run away…" he runs a chipped nail around my face and taps my nose, "I can't have that." I shiver, "You cold?" I don't respond, "Maybe if you weren't dressed like sucha fucking _puta _you WOULDN'T BE COLD!" he yells in my face, pulling my hair roughly. I shriek. "_CALLATE!" _he demands looking at me straight in the eyes. I notice the bags under his eyes, 5 o'clock shadow along his jaw, his rancid breath fuming on my face, and the deranged look in his eye. If I was scared just a minute ago…now I'm completely terrified!

"Noah, Noah please…please, calm down.", I tell him as softly as I can.

This only angers him more and he yanks my hair, "DON'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!" he slaps me across the cheek and I'm now sure that I'll have a dark bruise soon. My ex then orders his little gang to disperse, "_Para eso me dejaste, verdad? _To be a whore? I ALWAYS KNEW YOU CHEATED ON ME!" another slap, "_Pinche perra!"_

Tears of fear run down my face, "Noah…please!", he grabs my face and squeezes my cheek. I go out on a limb and harden up, "CALL ME…WHATEVER…BUT I NEVER CHEATED ON YOU! BASTARD!"

My words anger him even more and he knees me in the stomach. I fall to my knees clutching my stomach but he pulls me back up by the hair, "_CALMADA…_Watch that mouth or things will get nasty." He warns. I feel something cold slide up my leg, I dare to look down and gasp. _The crazy bastard has a knife on him! _

"Baby, baby…calm down! Don't do something crazy, please!", I shriek as I feel the tip dancing along my neck, "I-I…I lo-loveyou!", the only thing that I believe will stop him.

He stares at me confusedly, "Wha' you say?"

"Baby, _te quiero…_I'm sorry for doin' you bogus…I-I don' know what I was thinking.", I force I regretful smile on my face, "I'm sorry…I love you…we-we can work it out…yeah?"

His grip on my hair loosens up. His eyes shine with forming tears, he laughs like a madman…the madman he is, "I-I knew it…you were just being a dumb bitch…you could never leave me." He chuckles and he taps his knife on my cheek.

My breath hitches and I smile, "Yeah…now, put that knife down, babe." I put a shaky hand on the hand that holds the weapon and slowly try to coax it away, "C'mon, so I can give you a k-kiss…I missed you so much." I laugh breathily.

"_Deveras me extranaste?_", he asks with a tone of disbelief. His weapon still to my cheek, making me ever more nervous and uncertain.

"Would I ever lie to you?"

His eyes show sudden rage, "Yes!" he presses the knife against my cheek and I can feel a trickle of blood sliding down my face, "You told me that you didn't love me and then you went with the bitch ass Punk!"

"Baby…Love, please…You're hurting me!", I cry out.

His eyes look frantically into mine and he begins to cry, "I-I'm sorry, _amor_!" He hugs me and I feel the blade point pierce through my shoulder.

I tremble violently, and squeal. Noah releases me and notices what he just did with wide eyes. I touch my shoulder with my other hand and feel hot liquid stain it. Bringing it in front of me, I make to scream but nothing comes out, "Noah…what...have you…done?" I ask incredulously.

"Baby…BABY!" He tries to touch me and I slide away from him. He picks up the knife, "I'm sorry…I-I didn't mean to…I-I love you!"

I'm near the front of the cabaret clutching my shoulder hoping that I won't bleed out, "GET AWAY FROM ME!" I screech, "GET AWAY!"

Cabaret's doors open and reveal a giggling Maria and smiling Phil. They take a look at me and Maria lets out a blood-curdling shrill. Phil comes over to me with a frantic look in his eyes. He stumbles over words and nothing coherent comes out his mouth.

"PHIL WATCH OUT!" I yelp as I see an enraged Noah charge at him from behind with his bloodied weapon in hand.

* * *

><p>White noise fills my ears. I can't hear a thing but sure as hell can see. Off to the side, Maria appears to be screaming her lungs out. Yelling, yelling, screaming, screaming…but I can't hear. Her arms flail around; she looks a deranged, retarded chicken.<p>

In slow-motion, Phil…the man who ever since his grand return had done nothing but belittle, ridicule, and insult me falls to the ground ever so slowly. He looks…graceful almost. His eyes show pure fear and pain; still they delve into mine. He mouths something but I can't hear. He falls to the ground, finally and that's when I notice…it. The reason for his pained expression…Noah's knife stuck like a pin to his left shoulder. My world stops…my heart seems to deadline…I no longer feel my pain but his. I drop to my knees not caring how badly they are scraped and crawl to him. I forget all the resentment…everything. I feel my vocal chords vibrating as I scream. Blood seeps through his dress-shirt. I'm rendered helpless.

Feet appear in my line of view and I look up to see a insane, smiling Noah. He says something, laughs and walks away quickly…disappearing into the darkness. I'm glued to the place where I am, clutching Phil's body, crying…yes, crying hysterically. His warm, quickly becoming cold, blood smears all over me. A force pushes me away from him. I look and it's a crazed Maria.

My ears open up and I hear a variety of derogatory names and urges to keep away from Phil. _Now isn't the fucking time! _I lunge at Maria and shake her, "HELP ME PICK HIM UP! WE NEED TO GET HIM OUTSIDE OR HE'LL DIE ON US!"

All Punk's girlfriend does is breakdown. It's up to me to get him inside, the doors are open. I crawl to his uninjured side and try to pick him up. He's deadweight, "C'mon…work with me!" I manage to get him up and he seems to be conscious, "Sweetheart…please, walk with me…C'mon Phil." I begin to cry again, "C'mon baby!"

By the time I arrive inside, I wail at the top of my lungs, "AMBULANCE! HURT! MAN!"

The people who are still inside panic and the Brit who played the drums comes over and helps me keep my…er…Phil up. "The hell happened?" he asks

I can barely speak…nothing coherent. I hear somebody calling 911.

No more than 10mins late, paramedics arrive. They try to pry Punk away from me and I refuse. "He needs to be with me!"

"Ma'm let go…"

"No! I-I I'm his girlfriend I gotta be with him!" I tell the P.M frantically

"Okay…if you let us help him…you can ride in the ambulance with him.", He says reassuring me that everything'll be fine.

"Promise?", I ask like a child. The P.M nods. Unwillingly I let go of the man and the go to work. One takes me outside to check out my wound. I see Maria being escorted in by Danny. Danny catches my eye and smiles sadly.

On our speedy race to the hospital, I sit in the back holding Phil's hand…just like the P.M promised. Though my first love is unconscious I rub his hand and whisper soothing words to him. I gaze at him and take in all his handsomeness. Even soaked in blood his attractive features aren't marred. He's on his back with wads cottonballs covering up his wound and a gauze bandage wrapped around his torso. His expression seems pained and for this I cry. Guilt pours into me like poison, slowly killing me. Had I warned him sooner…had I stayed against the wall…had I done so many things differently, perhaps he wouldn't be in this ambulance, on this stretcher, in the company of his cheating ex-girlfriend.

Caressing his cheek I murmur a list of sorrys and regrets. A hand slides on top of mine and I jump from fright, his eyes open and lazy olive-greens stare back at me. A ghost of a smile on his face, "Call me Knight in Shining Armor…you owe me a Pepsi." He chuckles and grips my hand tighter.

I laugh along…and then that laugh turns into sobs, "I'm so fucking sorry."

He caresses my beat-up cheek, "Women…they always gotta cry for something."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N- **_My shot at an intense scene!_

_Read. Review. Follow._

_So, I've been stuck on this amazing story, "Amazing Grace" by Baybie, check it out!_

The paramedic that I've come to know as, Joe shakes his head and busies himself with finding a good vein in Punk's forearm so he can attach the blood bag.

Hearing his comment made all my tears evaporate and a frown found its way onto my face, "Really? You could be bleeding to death and you're trying to be the funny guy?", I snatch my hand away and cross my arms.

Phil lets out a shaky sigh, "Yes. Yes, it's the only thing that'll keep my mind off the excruciating pain I'm in."

The man smirks but I see right through it; Phil was always one to never say whether he was hurting, and **that **really worried me, "Well, say so then…I'm not psychic! I can tell Joe, here, to give you a shot of morphine; as a matter of fact..." Phil's hand latches on to my forearm.

"NO!", he shouts. I look at him like he just lost his marbles, "No…I don't take drugs."

"That's ridiculous…it's motherfuckin' MORPHINE, you know a pain med?", I tell him.

He chuckles lightly and then winces, "Stop making me laugh…it hurts—"

"With more reason!", I try to pull out of his grip but fail, "Let go…you're in pain!"

"I said I don't want any pain meds…they go against my being Straight-Edge…"

Huffing, "If this is you trynna be macho-man then it's not cute.", I pull out his grip and sit back down, "Suit yourself."

I tried to pass off as indifferent and tried to disregard the grunts of pain Phil let escape from his throat, but I couldn't. I couldn't disregard him…his pain is my pain. _Fuck you, feelings. Fuck you. _As soon as I saw him start shivering and sweating I went into action, "Phil…Phil, what's wrong? Does it hurt?", he isn't responding and his breathing became shallower with each second, "C'MON PHIL, TELL ME WHERE IT HURTS."

Joe sees this and starts yelling orders to the paramedic who's driving, telling him to floor it.

His trembling hand grabs mine and he begins to talk in between breaths, "I ever tell…you…how beau-beautiful you are?", _hell?, _"Only get more…with age…I never stopped loving those…eyes...ever since we were…in highschool…always been in lo-love…", he goes into a fit of labored coughs and tears rise in those lazy olive-green eyes. _What's he saying?, _"with them…Always…with _you_…", my breath is lost somewhere in my lungs, my eyes open wide…_Did he just?_, "Couldn't stay mad…no, _never_…", he closes his eyes, he hold my hand in death grip…it's starting to turn pale just like him and I'm worried.

_People always give these life-changing speeches before they die…DIE?, _"JOE, WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM?"

Before Joe can reply, "Marleene, I-I'm…in love with…_you_…always have been…", Phil opens his eyes and they search mine. My eyes are wide with surprise and worry. Tears run down my cheeks from all this new info…_He's delirious!_ His eyes roll to the back of his head and that's when I see that blood is quickly drenching the stretcher. I screech in horror.

"Ma'm I have to ask you to stay away…he's starting to bleed out and I need all the space I can get.", inquires Joe.

Hyperventilating, "IS HE GONNA DIE? OH FUCK…OH FUCKING JESUS!"

Joe has shut me off. He flips Phil over and I see just to what extent his wound has worsened. Joe takes a pair of scissors and cuts off the gauze quickly. He puts on new sterilized gloves and plucks out all the cotton balls. As soon as the last one is plucked out, a spring of blood gushes out. Cover my mouth to keep from screaming. My eyes roam and see that the wound is slowly but progressively turning a different color.

"Joe…JOE, what does that mean? Is he bleeding out?"

"I'm not certain but he has an infection…we need to get him to the damned hospital quickly."

"_I'M NOT CERTAIN? _REALLY?", I ask aggravated by the fact that he doesn't know for sure.

My right shoulder pulsates and a sharp pain courses throughout. From all this anger, tension, and worry the quick stitches done on my own would rip apart. I yelp from the searing pain and feel warm liquid run down. Pain is so intense that I find myself getting woozier and woozier by the second. Joe is too focused getting Punk's wound cleaned to notice me going down.

_Man down! Man down! Man dow-. _My vision blurs and then I swim into the waters of unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Shortly after waking up like 2hrs ago, I realized that we'd been brought to the same hospital where I'd just been not even a day ago. Some doctor cleaned out my wound, stitched me up, and gave me a prescription for the pain. An elderly nurse on duty gave me a shirt, socks, and sweats to wear since my borrowed dress was soaked with blood. I found my signed flyers, numbers, and money intact so I was happy. Then, my cranky-self was sent to the billing shit…you know, where they ask for you info, insurance, and all that good stuff.<p>

Since I have no insurance, Medicaid, or none of that government funded bullshit, I'm stuck filling out paperwork. _Paperwork sucks. Bills fucking suck. THIS HOSPITAL SUCKS!_ I'm being billed 800 HUNDRED FUCKING BUCKS, dude. _What I look like? Does it look like I shit money?_ 300 for the E.R room, which was just a fucking section of a room, and utilities used; the rest for what I imagine the doc's pay. _FUCKING RIDICULOUS! _

The sound of a crying unstable teen girl threw my concentration out the window. My eyes conspicuously travel over to the E.R door where she stood with two policemen. Her hair is disheveled, up in every which way. Her make-up is smeared and 3 long gashes can be seen on her face—they seem fresh. Her clothes consist of a ripped, tattered, over-sized plaid shirt and ripped faded blue jeans with blood at the crotch area. I know what she's here for, it's obvious. She's a rape case, shaky legs and all. I pity her because she seems too young to even know what rape is. Day, weeks, months, years will pass by and she'll live with that trauma…probably scrubbing herself raw to get rid of those invisible germs, that dirty feeling—just like I used to do every night after fucking a client. _So young…_

Rotating my head, I fill in some more blanks in the forms. My mind travels to the incident leading to this. All the hair on my arms rise, so do goosebumps. I'd been so close to death and it didn't cease to scare me. _How did Noah know my location? Did he stalk me?_ So many thoughts and questions run through my mind, but only one image sticks: the look in his eyes. I shiver and tremble just remembering. His life had probably gone downhill prior to the events. His state of mind showed it; his appearance too. Thinking of my crazed ex made my heart's pace quickly and wound pulsate. One minute he's hitting me across the face, the next declaring his love, and lastly stabbing me. I shiver and wipe the tear that slides down my cheek. The pen I put atop the bill clipboard rattles and I notice that I'm trembling violently. _Is this how I'm gonna be? Scared and traumatized? _Which brings on the question: what would've happened if Phil and Maria hadn't come out when they did? It hits me like a freight train, had shit taken a different turn…I'd probably be in emergency surgery or _worse_. _I'd be in Phil's place…_

Those very same words echo in my head over and over, _I'm in love with you…always have been._ Took all these people to tell me but yet I never believed a syllable…not until he told me himself. Even now, sitting in this damned chair I ponder.

Ponder, why? That night at the bus station I promised that I'd wait for him, that no other would take his place. He leaves for awhile and I let my loneliness get to me and what do I do? Fuck his brother the one who betrayed him…the same brother who stole from him and like the money he took his girl.

October comes around and I meet somebody new. Graduation comes around and I'm in love thinking that the man, Noah, too loved me. Lies, lies, lies and fake promises…_this _was the man I believed to be my first love because my real first love was washed away through bottles upon bottles of cheap liquor and blurry nights. One night when I've had enough of Noah's bullshit and actually stand up for myself…I'm pushed down, physically and beaten senseless. This is my "first love".

A mysterious superhero swoops me in his arms and saves me. His identity revealed as Micks's brother, my washed away real first love…forgotten, pushed away in the depths of my brain. We spend a day or two together: laughing, joking, talking, and passing by all the places we used to go…I don't realize. I overhear his conversation with his sister and yet have no clue. My savior leaves wanting to kiss me. Leaves me the keys to his home and still claims me to be nothing but a stranger he can't remember. In the time in between, I go and give myself to others like the first time he left me; this time for money. Pages and pages of journals I've read and this all seems new. Friends and sister confirmed it. _Hell, even he did with his actions way before he uttered his love. _

That disgust he showed when he found out about my whoring, the look in his eyes as he inched nearer and neared to kiss me on top of the sink, anger and annoyance shown whenever his main man Colt flirted jokingly with me or even simply touched me, those mumbles and whispers, the scenes of anger and disgust back at the cabaret when he thought I could do better that he could support me, his reaction to seeing me with Randy, the glossiness of his eyes during my person, that look…EVERYTHING yelled his feelings; confirmed that he hadn't ever forgotten… _me_.

"Ma'm? Ma'm?", a nurse brings me back with her soft voice, "Are you okay?"

"What?", I ask confusedly

"You broke the clipboard and you're crying…", she tells me with a look of pity in her face.

_Oh…_Lookin' down at my hands, I have indeed broken the clipboard in half. My eyes are blurry and puffy from all the crying and my voice is hoarse. Avoiding all eye-contact with the nurse I tell her that I'm fine. Nurse doesn't buy it but doesn't pester me about it. One more look and she leaves.

Wiping my tears furiously, my mind traveled to Punk's girlfriend and her state of distress. The beautiful woman didn't look too good when we were snatched away in the ambulance. What about Wes? _Shit! _He didn't even know! He'd be freaking out and shit. I rake a hand through my curls and rub my temples.

"Family of Phillip Brooks?", calls out a voice. Cracking my eyes open I notice it's a doctor in his surgical scrubs, "Family of Phillip Brooks!"

_Shit. What should I say I am? Think, think, think. _"Yes? I'm his…girlfriend!", I answer.

The older doctor strides over with a clipboard in hand. He stops right in front of me and I feel awkward lookin' up at him so I stand. He lifts his mask and pulls out his hand and I shake it, "I'm Dr. Charles Pfeffer, pleasure to meet you."

"Hi, I'm Marleene Soto."

"Well, I've got some good news and bad news…which one do you want to hear first?", he says

Sighing, "Bad."

"You may want to sit down.", I do. My nerves are on edge. _Is he dead? BRAIN DEAD?_, "Phillip—"

"Phil."

"Ah yes, Phil. He suffered a stab wound to the left shoulder.", _No shit, Captain Obvious_, "Which is, to an extent, quite dangerous for many nerves and blood vessels are located there including a major vessel that supplies blood to the heart—"

I started to fear the worst and wanted the doctor to get to the point, "Doc…just tell me!"

"Okay. Phil suffered lacerations a major blood vessel…", gasp, "and a couple nerves."

Fresh tears arrive instantly; I hide my face in my hands. _What have I done?_, "Miss…he's fine. We took care of them. It's just that his left arm will be paralyzed for a day or two.", my head shoots up and ears perked, "He's fine, rest assured. He'll be in a sling for…I want to say, 6wks."

My mood brightens up at the news that Phil's alive, but fury rises at the scare Dr. Pfeffer gave me, "You bastard!", Doc is dumbfounded, "Had me all scared and shit for nothing."

"I'm sorry, Miss. Uh…if you wish to see him come along."

"Of course I wan—"My pupils dilate and his words spring into my mind, "I'll take you up on the offer a lil' later…he needs his rest."

"But he's awa—"

"HE NEEDS REST.", I mutter through my teeth

"Um…okay.", says the doctor and walks back through the out-of-bounds doors.

_The hell am I gonna say to Phil? Is he even gonna remember? Were those what he thought his last words? FUCK!_ My stomach somersaults over and over. My body needs a stress reliever. I make my way outside in hopes of finding any smokers willing to donate a square.

Three nurses are huddled near the entrance laughing and smoking. _How ironic. _I go up to them and ask; reluctantly one carrot-head does and a brunette lights it up for me. I mumble a thanks and pace away.

* * *

><p>"Right in here, Ms. Soto.", announces this cute little Asian nurse.<p>

I smile nervously and thank her; on the inside I want to run away…screaming. Entering the room I find that Phil has a roommate. He's another white-boy with tattoo sleeves and black hair. Kinda attractive but nowhere near Phil's league. I look over him to Phil and he seems to be napping. As I back away the roommate whistles.

"Man, Phil, how does an ugly bastard like **you** get a woman like **that**?", says the roommate laughing.

Phil turns over and laughs along, "Ugly? I'm a prettyboy to her!", my knees feel like Jell-O and I wish the damned white-boy would've stayed his ass quiet.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N- **_Some fluff, some relief, some intensity, some sadness—All that good stuff._

_You reviewer, favorite-rs, and followers made me happy…which isn't something easy when I'm sick with a sore throat. Thank you, lovelies!_

_Read, review, follow?_

"You two know I'm standin' right here, right?", I ask them as I stride over to Punk still feeling ever so nervous. I stand at the foot of his bed. He looks drowsy and appears to be naked. _That's just the upper-body. What about the lower-body?_. Mentally kicking myself I notice that his arm is in a sling, "H-how you feelin'?"

"Just fine and dandy aside from being thrown off a motorcycle, darling!", answers the male in the next bed. I giggle a bit, "You can be my nurse though…", he winks

Phil frowns and with a push of a button, a curtain separates us from the other guy.

"Now to answer your question, I feel like a fuckin' cripple…Oh wait, I am one!", he replies with anger in his tone and I don't blame him.

"I'm sorry. I should've warned you…I-I…", I turn my face to the side and try to keep unreleased tears at bay. There's no way I'm crying in front of the roommate.

"Sorry? You're the one who was the target.", I nod still not facing him, "Come here."

My feet are firmly glued to the ground, "No. I'm fine.", I lie

"Marleene, come over. You're not fucking fine; I know y…", he pauses himself, "_I know you_.", he whispers.

_If he remembers that…HE SURE AS HELL REMEMBERS WHAT HE SAID IN THE AMBULANCE! _My eyes become saucers and I suddenly wish I was still drunk. A weird little 'ding' comes from Punk's bed and seconds later the same cute Asian nurse comes over.

"Yes, Mr. Brooks?"

"Told you, call me Phil. Now, could you be a doll and get my…uh…_girlfriend _a little something to eat?", asks the injured man in his sweetest tone.

Little Asian nurse smiles and goes about getting me 'a little something' to eat. I look at Phil, "I don't want anything…I'm not hungry."

"If I'm hungry you sure as hell are too.", he presses a button and his bed lifts so he's in a sitting position. His eyebrows furrow and his eyes strain…he's in pain.

My instinct pulls me over to him. I fluff his pillow, "You sure you don't need anything for the pain?"

He rubs his limp arm, "I'm sure.", he looks up to me, "I'm fine.", his gaze begins to hypnotize me but I avert my eyes, "What about you? How you holding up?"

Huffing, "I'm really fucking exhausted.", he gives me a look, "And my shoulder is sore as hell…", he looks at me quizzically, "He stabbed me that's why you and Maria saw me all distressed. I was tryin' to get away from the bastard."

The cute nurse arrives with a tray filled with somewhat edible food atop a cart. Phil thanks her and she leaves taking the roommate in the process…somethin' about a scan. Punk pushes the cart to the side and sits up completely. His expression isn't a pretty one, "Let me see.", it was more of a command.

"I'm not wearing anything under this shirt.", I murmur while my cheeks heat up

"I'll avert my eyes.", he insists

"I could barely get this shirt on."

"I'll help you…look, I **will** annoy until you give in."

I huff but give in. I pull my arms into the shirt so Phil will just have to slip it over my head. As he lifts my shirt, I cross my arms over my chest. My eyes shut tight for the fact that he's seeing me almost completely nude and the embarrassment that I felt that my body will have a new scar soon. Bad enough my arms have scars but now my back too. I hear him gasp. _He's petrified by the ugliness! _Fingertips graze the still very sensitive, stitched-up skin; my weak nerves tense up and I wince a tad. Same fingertips remove as if shocked by static, "Sorry. Did I hurt you?"

"No, just that it's still a little sensitive.", I whisper

Phil runs his hand down my stitched-up wound all the way to my hip and keeps his hand there, "Who the fuck would want to harm somebody so beautiful, so perfect…someone like _you_?", he whispers and I doubt it's meant to be answered…well, at least not by me.

Know that feeling you get when somebody's staring at you? Well, that's what I'm feeling; Punk's beautiful eyes piercing right through me. Since I'm sitting with my to him, I can't sneak a peek through my peripheral. Next best thing, I turn around and bump right into his nose. My reflexes move my hands to my nose. Seconds later, my brain wraps itself around the fact that I'm flashing the man. Before I can even think of my next move, Phil wraps my discarded shirt around my indecently exposed chest all the while keeping his eyes on mine. _Why did I ever cheat on you? Why didn't I wait? Perfect man…_

My mouth dries up like the Sahara Desert, "Tha-thank you."

"No need…I haven't paid and I don't want a freebie.", _WHAT?_

_Just a minute ago, you were calling me 'beautiful' and covering me up like a gentleman…now, it's back to being a FUCKING ASSHOLE? _My face contorts into anger, "You're a fucking asshole!", my hand is ready to deliver a slap but doesn't, "Only 'cus I'm fucking shirtless and you're a CRI-PPLE!", I turn back around and throw on my shirt completely ignoring the pain coming from my right shoulder, "Asshole. Fucking jerk, just when I think you and I can be civil…" I mutter under my breath as I hop off the bed and stomp out of the room.

"BEEN AN ASSHOLE JERK SINCE 1978, SWEETHEART!", he yells after me

Nearly out the door, I turn around, "FUCK YOU!", and I proceed to stomp away

"CAN'T! YOU MIGHT BE INFECTED!", I'm too far away and all I can do to let out my anger is punch the wall nearest to me.

* * *

><p>Punching the elevator button repeatedly, as if doing so would make it come up faster, it finally dinged open. Emptying out of, was the cute Asian nurse and the one and only…Maria! Colt also appeared.<p>

"Marleene! I heard…are you okay?", asked Colt attentively.

My response was none. Only a cold stare to Maria. She mirrored mine. Colt waved a hand in front of us but nothing came of it. Maria opens her mouth and sneers, "To think I actually LIKED you. Look what you've done!", she take a step forward trying to size me up.

With a sneer of my own, "Last time I checked, I didn't call him up sayin' 'Phil, can you come save me from my crazy ex…'cus you're a fucking superhero and even though all you've done is insult me all night…I need you'. Did I?", I wait a second for her response, "No, I didn't think so! So let me be on my way; I've had enough bullshit.", with my held head up in defiance, I shuffle through her and dumbfounded Colt. I push a button on the elevator, but as its doors close I step out so my upper body is out while lower-body is in., "Colt!", he turns, "Your phone."

"What for?", he asks taking it out of his pocket

"COLT JUST GIMME THE DAMN PHONE!", I growl and he chucks it at me

Elevator comes to a halt and its doors open. Dialing a familiar number, I put the borrowed cell to my ear and wait for the designated person to pick-up.

Three fuckin' calls later, "This Wesley…who's this?"

"FUCKING SANTA MOTHERFUCKIN' CLAUS…WHO DO YOU THINK IT IS?", I yell into the phone. A random nurse stops in her tracks and stares at me with wide-eyes. Putting a hand over the phone, "WHAT YOU LOOKIN' AT?", I growl at the bitch. She scrambles off and I continue on my way to the waiting room.

"Damn…who put a needle in your ass?", asks Wesley through the phone

"I'm not in the mood for silly shit.", I tell him warningly

"Ouch. Where are you? I come out and I see ambulances and cops all over the damn place…had Dips thinkin' they were raidin'."

"The hospital."

"WHAT? WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED?", I hold the phone at arm's distance

"Punk and I got shanked by…uh…", I close my eyes tightly, "Noah."

"_HIJO DE SU GRAN PUTA MADRE! VA VER QUE LE ESPERA…VA VER…SE LA BUSCO SE PENDEJO. CUANDO LO ENCUENTRE VA HASTA QUERER ESTAR SEIS PINCHE PIES ABAJO—"_

Something about my good, ol' friend Wesley is that when he's mad…like seething, steam-comin'-out-your-ears mad…he speaks in Spanish. Right now, he's there and that terrifies me because he's goin' to be out for blood, "Wesley, please calm down—"

"_QUE ME CALME? QUE ME CALME? NO ME VOY A CALMAR HASTA QUE ESE PERRO ESTE MUERTO!_"

"_Please…", _I beg him, "Can you just …come here? I need a shoulder to cry on.", I push the double-doors open and walk over to the waiting room chairs and plop myself on the closest one. Tears well-up and my lips tremble. _So fucking done with this drama…I SHOULD BE HAPPY IT'S MOTHERFUCKIN' CHRISTMAS!_

I hear Wesley sigh, "FINE…fine. Gimme a few. You need anything?"

"You to be here, some weed, some alcohol, and a blankie."

"I'll be ASAP. Uh…it's a hospital, doll: weed, and alcohol are no-nos'. I guess I'll just stop by the gift store…you in E.R waiting room?"

"THE ALCOHOL IS A MUST!", I whine, "And yeah I'm in here. Bring me some shoes too, please." I pull my knees up and hug myself

"Alright, see ya'.", he clicks and I'm left to my overloaded mind and myself.

Time ticks by and Wesley walks through the doors with a FinishLine bag and a bag containing a Batman blanket. I scatter and jump into his arms, crying on the way. For a minute, safety comes in the form of my boss, my friend, my brother. He drops his purchases and rubs my back and soothes me as best as he can. Minutes pass by and when I let go of him, everyone looks at us with a smile.

"Here, I got you some Air Jordan's and this Batman blanket…Merry early Christmas to you.", he says trying to make me smile

I open up the shoebox and a tiny smile comes across my face, "Thanks.", I put them on and tie them. The blanket makes me full out smile, "You're the best.", jump up and hug him, "Where's the liquor?"

"Ciroc's in the car.", he whispers

"Let's go, the pain is coming back…physical and emotional.", unzipping the bag that contains my new blanket, I wrap myself in it and walk out into the frosty morning.

* * *

><p>"So yeah, now I'm here with you trying to wash all of that bullshit with this, here, drink.", I mumble drunkenly to a still-sober Wes. We've been huddled in his car for the past…I don't know…time escaped me as soon as I started feeling the buzz<p>

"How's Punk doin'? Maria and Colt are with him?"

The rain of questions upset my mind, "Chi-iiiill…", I put a lazy finger to my lips, "He's fine…CRIPPLED but fine. Yeah, that bitch and Scotty are with him."

" nerve of that son-of a-bitch, Noah…", he says shaking his head

Removing the Ciroc bottle from my mouth, "Don't blame his mom…she's nice.", I giggle, "Unlike MI-IIIINE...that bitch…that bitch…", I can't even get through the sentence because fresh tears threaten to ruin my liquor-induced happiness.

Wesley opens his trap as if to add something but stops himself and just gives me a sad smile, "You don't need'er, doll."

"I know…I'm fine. BEEN fine without the bitch…I just wish she'd taught me…how to be an independent woman…not a fucked-up, literally, whore.", I down another gulp of the bottle, "Y'know? Maybe, just maybe, I deserve this shit...because I cheated.", off to my side Wesley sighs, "Don't…Phil was sucha good guy…STILL IS...He didn't look at my tits, hell!...and I couldn't keep my vagina covered.", things made so much logical sense in my drunken mind. I laugh at that, "He said he loved me, Wes…", I lean over to him, "He did…and then he remembered that I'm a hoe-bag…and forgot he loved me.", Wesley wipes my tears, "Because hoes like me…they don't deserve men like Phil…no, they don' deserve gentlemen…MARIA on the contrary…", Wesley just keeps on wiping away my tears.

Leaning back into my seat, I wrap myself tighter into my blanket. _I don't want to be sad…it's Christmas fuckin' Eve…_I gulp down more of my alcoholic beverage. _You make me happy, Ciroc…yes, you do. _I down more and more; I embrace the bliss and jolly holiday spirit my friend, Ciroc, brings me.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N- **Super short chapter, sorry.

Sorry for the wait, I've been sick as hell.

CHAPTER 34

"Banana bag" medical slang for the IV bag full of fluids used on patients with alcohol running through their system, patients like me. Technically, I'm not a patient here BUT thanks to Boss-man, who bribed the little Asian nurse to give me the IV fluids, I'm now grumpily sitting on Punk's bed instead of snoozing in Wesley's car.

"Keep that little expression on your face long enough and it'll stay like that.", says Punk trying to poke me the wrong way

"Keep on annoyin' me and **that **sling will stay on for more than 6wks, _pinche malcriado_!", I threatened

My head throbs and pulsates and I wonder when in God's name is this "banana bag" thing gonna start healing my hangover. My brain was regretting ever drinking or ever having STOPPED. One more pulsation and I rest my head on the cold, refreshing, steel pole my IV bag hangs onto and close my eyes.

"See kids, this is an example on why you SHOULDN'T consume alcohol and/or drugs.", says Phil in a voice similar to that of the commercial man's.

_Ignore him. Ignore him. Ignore him. _Punk was rapidly becoming **that** one annoying buzzing mosquito that follows you around. _WES WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU AND WHEN YOU COMIN' BACK!_ Boss-man had taken Maria and Colt down to the cafeteria for some coffee…about an hour ago.

"Why such a face?", asks Phil in mock concern which earns him a death glare from me, "Aw, sad that you couldn't get in Randall's pants?", he adds pouting his lips and batting his lashes

My eyes weld themselves shut, "I don't know what I ever saw in you.", I mutter under my breath, "Yes, Phil…", his name rolls off my tongue like a cuss word, "because even though I could've gotten murked by my deranged ex, not having fucked the one and only Randy Orton is a big bummer.", I turn to face him with a scowl

His face contorts into confusion, "Wait it was—"

"You know, I'm so very disappointed because I didn't fuck him OR Dave Batista…instead I got stuck having to watch my highschool sweetheart, first love…get stabbed and go down without being able to do shit other than WATCH . Yeah, just watch and believe that the motherfucker was bleeding to death. His girlfriend, perfectly fine and dandy aside from the screeching and crying DID NOTHING; ME, injured and shit, I FUCKING PICKED HIM, YOU, UP!", my eyes begin to water as flashbacks flood in. My fingers slowly turn white from gripping the metal pole, "I took you to safety. I DID. I told them to call 911, I held you as you were in and out of consciousness.", the most haunting part was coming up and my hands begin to tremble violently along with my entire body, "I'm BEYOND disappointed that instead of spending a night having a threesome with those two wrestlers…I had to be in THAT ambulance, SITTING next to you, WATCH you go delirious, HEAR you tell me…tell me you loved me…that you loved me since…that you forgave me…because for those couple of seconds you, like me, thought you were dying.", pausing I try to control myself. Try because that's all I manage, "Disappointment can't even suffice to describe what I feel about waking up in the very same hospital I've spent a couple days in instead of waking up wrapped in Randy or Dave's arms…waking up in a luxurious hotel room. Honestly, I feel stupid, above stupid, having cried for a man, one that I saved from Death's grasp, who instead of treating me a shit bit of respect and gratitude…treats me like shit, belittles me; one who seems to be bipolar being ever so sweet and then ever so nasty. MAYBE just MAYBE, my hopes were a little TOO farfetched…", I turn my head to the side so he can't see my face and whisper, "that he'd actually meant his little declaration of love and forgiveness…because that…that's what I've been wanting to hear for some time."

A calloused, rough hand grabs my arm, making me turn to face its owner. I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes. My whole being feels naked. Fingers tilt my chin up and still I refuse to look at those beautiful olive-greens so I close my eyes tightly, "Marleene…Marleene, look at me…please?"

_What for?_ Standing up on shaky legs, I take hold of my "banana bag" and make my way to the door, but not before whispering, "Save your petty 'Sorry'…Dave is in town for his girls and Randy…he has enough on his plate—no room for a whore, like me.", I hold back my tears and look at what's in front of me…or the doorway. Maria, Colt, and Boss-man. How long have they been there? I have no clue and really don't care. Pushing passed them, Colt tries to get a hold on me but I shake him off. Maria just leans against the doorway looking at her feel, and Boss-man just runs a hand through his short hair.

Hallways become mazes. All look the same to me, perhaps because I am still a tad bit tipsy or because of the tears in my eyes. One more corner and I let myself slump down against a wall and let out all my emotions…holding myself for comfort. The idea of leaving the Chi and migrating to Maryland sounds better and better with every tear that drips from my swollen, puffy eyes…every drip my IV bag drops makes me miss Fannie, Pops, Caro, my _sobrinos, _and_ Tio_ all the more.


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N- **_Bear with me, I know some parts drag BUT I couldn't find a way around ):_

_Keep the love comin' !_

_**Disclaimer (haven't done one in a minute)**- Only thing that belongs to me is the plot and OCs._

Snowflakes hit the window as we drive through the busy streets of Chicago. Every turn and swerve there's a happy lookin' couple or family. This brings my already spoiled mood down and with Wesley constantly asking questions and demanding answers, things couldn't get worse.

"C'mon Mar, y'know you gotta speak up sometime.", he says looking at me through the mirror.

"I don't feel like explaining shit."

"But you left us all shocked!"

"Look, that was only s'posed to be between Punk and me…not all of you included."

"I know, I know but—"

"Can we just please?", I ask him

"Fine, but what you gonna do about Noah. The motha'fucka' could be anywhere."

My body turns cold at the mention of the loon, "I-I uh don't know, Wes. I'm kinda…really scared that should I ever run into him again…he-he'll kill me.", I reply hiding in my Batman blanket

Wes grabs a hold of my hand and gives it a squeeze, "You forget that you got me, little munchkin."

A couple minutes of comfortable silence later, we arrived at a mall. The place was straight PACKED! Human bodies every which way; overflowing like a cup had and has me feeling claustrophobic. With the money Randy and Dave gave me I'd made close to $700 and for that I mentally thanked their OVER-generosity. Anyway, Boss-man and I bee-lined it to GameStop and purchased a couple of videogames for my little Dominick. Just thinking of the little guy's reaction brightened up my mood. Next, we went to this cute baby boutique and bought a couple of essentials for the upcoming baby. Afterwards, we traveled to FYE and stocked up on Micks's favorite movies…she's a movie geek.

Now, we currently stroll about seemingly content with our gifts BUT then we—I spy Spencer's and I feel an electric current pull me in along with Boss-man. This "pull" took me all the way to the back of the store. You know where all the dirty, naughty, kinky shit is. My lips curve into a mischievous smirk and fingers take a hold of the amazing…VIBRATING PANTY!

Wes looks over to me and turns slightly red. All I'm doing is wagging my eyebrows and pointing at the box, "You really gots to do **that **type of shoppin'?"

Clicking my tongue, "Nope. Not for me. For Maria 'cus we both know Philly has no willy and y'know…I feel bad for her not being pleasured and—"

"NO.", Wes snatches the box from my grasp and drags me out the store

"What the fuck? I was actually enjoying myself.", I pouted

"Yeah…_enjoying_.", Wesley's phone starts to go off and he answers leaving me by my lonesome self

Something about looking at the stream of people, including Wes, on their phones gave me the grand idea of purchasing MY own phone. _Spoil yourself. Money doesn't last forever!_

"MARLEENE KARIME, ARE YOU SHITTIN' ME? A $236 PHONE?", asks Boss-man incredulously

"Shuttup you're going to ruin my day. Now, be useful and teach me how to text, Master."

Two venti Frappes later, you'd find us relaxing at Starbucks. Wes already shown me the basics, reluctantly and now just filling chillaxing time with pointless small-talk.

"So, as you know Dip's hostin' his usual Christmas party…", began Wes—the man was proceeding with caution

"And?"

"Just wanted to know if you goin'...'cus this'll be the first time you gon' be alone since THAT FUCKING BAST—I mean uh yeah…", he didn't need to proceed. I hadn't gone to his get-together ever since Noah and I moved in together. It hadn't really hit me yet that I was actually single and free to do whatever the fuck I want.

For the first time in nearly 4 years I had no future _suegra_ to cook for, nobody to pretend to get-along with…I have nobody to kiss under the mistletoe or make love to after we get home from the festivities. _This is fucking depressing_, "Oh…uh, yeah…I'll be goin', I guess."

Wes smiles at me, "You're gonna have a great time. This'll make you forget all the bullshit. 'Sides there'll be alotta singles", he wags his brows

I gag on my Frappe, "My ex shanked me just hours ago. No thank you, I don't need any more crazy, cheatin', psychos."

"Aight, aight chill there; I was JUS' sayin'. Really though, you should go. I'm taking Micks's and the lil'guy 'cus Luz gots some fam shit goin' down, Phil and Maria, Colt, Danny and her babygirl, Dips obviously will be there, the tat crew, Dips's cabaret people, some business partners…let's jus' say A LOT of peeps goin'…practically 500+ people. Not including waiters, bartenders, DJ, band members"

Nearly spitting out, "_TANTA PINCHE GENTE?"_, he nods, "That's unbelievable. This is what being a druglord/business man gets you.", I shake my head

"So yeah, go. For me."

I nod unconvinced, "I think ima do some last minute shopping and yeah…stay. I'll text you.", I power-walk out the door way before he can even say something.

* * *

><p>Couple texts, couple calls ended up being evening. Boss and I were dead on our feet from all the movement and yeah. McKenzie's house was so close and yet so far. My whole frame screamed for a nap but my mushy brain knew that a nap was far from being taken. Exactly how I foresaw, McKenzie went hysterical; the arm flailing and 'are you stupid?' and 'you could've died!' and 'all for money!' shit. She brought the house down upon Phil's entrance. Had it not been for Wes draggin' her off…the baby would be in critical danger.<p>

It's now 9:42, Boss, my best gal, and Little Man have already left to banquet hall. Here I am STILL getting ready, pretending to listen to Colt's meaningless rant, and ignoring the "lovely" couple's quarrel.

"Colt could you pause and gimme some help in choosing tonight's dress?"

Colt obliges, "Because you got stabbed by a crazed ex and 'cus I want to get laid tonight…I will.", he says waggin' his brows

I found myself somewhere being mortified and amused by his comment, "ANYWHO…Black cutout or gray?", lifting up both dresses

Pensively, Colt touched both dresses while eyeing me. Couple moments passed and his fingers lingered on the cutout, "This is on the verge of 'R'…I dunno if I'd keep my hands out the cookie jar for long.", he says laughing

I gasp and wack him, "You're a perv!", taking a close look at the cutout dress, "Eh, I guess. Don't wanna look like sucha floozy. So, gray?"

"Yeah…now hurry up, woman. Your "date" will be here sooner or later.", a displeased look graced his face, "You sure you're not doing this to piss of Punk?"

Laughing humorlessly, I tossed the cutout dress to the side and made my way to the bathroom with my choice and undies. Walking to the bathroom, my phone vibrated with a new message: _Almost there. Ty GPS! U rdy?_

I ran the rest of the way to the bathroom and undressed and put on a strapless bra and matching boyshorts before replying: _LOL. Barley D: ! _Then, I slipped on the dress. It's a off the shoulder, long-sleeved, gray, cashmere, loose-top and form-fitting bottom dress that stops at mid-thigh. Looking in the mirror I noticed that my stitches will be showing which wasn't ideal but whatever at this point. My hair looked somewhat okay with volume. Makeup consisted of dramatic lid and eye liner with mascara.

Cell phone vibrated again: _Im outside. Hopefully.D:_

Mentally cursing, I put on my pantyhose. Somebody rang the doorbell while I was busy pulling up the pantyhose, "I'M GETTING THAT!", yelled a voice…not just ANY…Phil's. My eyes went wide.

"What brings you here, RANDALL.", Phil enunciated every syllable just so I'd hear and I facepalmed

Relunctantly opening the door, I found Colt smirking as he passed by, "Ring, ring…Welcome to…EXTREME EX WRESTLING!"

* * *

><p>Sidestepping Phil, I went to greet and hug Randy. He has the biggest shit-eating smirk ever; probably enjoying this moment. Stepping away from the giant, I took a moment to take in his presence, "You look handsome."<p>

"Ah, thank you. You look amazing, might I add.", he replies with a wink

Inside, Phil comes all obnoxious with his coughs and shit. Taking Randy's hand I lead him inside and mean-mug Punk, "Make yourself at home, I gotta go finish up.", the WWE wrestler smiles and nods, "YOU…go be a little nasty and jump off a cliff for all I care.", I mutter to Punk and he just laughs.

Retrieving my brand new long layered pearl necklace, black clutch, and black sued wedge-angle boot from my room, I pray to fucking God that tonight will go smoothly. Going back to the livingroom, all seems to be in place; Maria has invaded the area which annoys me.

"Where's Dave? I should think that you guys would come as a pair.", giggles Maria

"He said somethin' about a party.", shrugs Randy

Phil just sits next to Maria watching t.v. I make my way over to Randy and let him know that I'm ready to leave. He stands up and tells Maria that he'll see her over at the party; on the other hand, I yell to Colt the same. Quickly grabbing one of Micks's coats I dash out the door. Randy opens the door to his Mercedez-Benz rental for me and I gladly jump in.

Couple minutes into the drive we're animatedly talking, talking as if we've known one another for more than just a couple hours, "Man, that was by far the nastiest hangover.", whines the Superstar

"Fuck that, I got shanked! Got the stitches to prove it."

"That's fucked up, Marleene. Crazy bastard had good timing 'cus Dave and I wouldn't have forgiven."

"Yeah but it's almost Christmas…I just wanna dance, chat, drink, and drink some more.", I laugh

"Party animal? Got yourself lucky to have THIS stud.", he add smugly

I scoff, "Shut up. Had it not been for my need, you'd be on your ass all night."

He frowns but doesn't take his eyes off road, "Whatever. Dave told me that we'd be kicking back at his ex's house with the girls BUT a party popped in for him."

"Don't worry, I got you boy! We gonna party…but hey, I got some news for you."

"All ears 'cus eyes are all on the road."

"Danny er Samantha gon' be there…with the kiddo.", having said this was somewhere between surprising and terrifying for Randy because the man nearly swerved off the road, "You okay there?"

Breathing shallowly, "Yeah. It's just that…THAT made me so much more nervous, to be honest. FUCK."

Looking out the window, I noticed the banquet hall was near, "Turn left here 'cus we've arrived!", this is me trying to not be a party pooper and let loose and hoping to not feel any nostalgia. We pulled up to the front of the mansion-like banquet hall where a valet asked for the keys and all the good stuff.

Smoothing out his black dress-shirt and red tie, "Damn how many people are here? Seriously doubting that I'll meet my um…daughter tonight.", he whispered, putting a large hand in the small of my back

"Dips is a people-person. Besides, who'd rent out DiNolfo's for a small party? Oh you'll meet her, I got you on the meeting BUT that's only if you want, Orton—it's a big step and I'm not gonna preach the importance of being involved and shit, again.

Two men dressed in green and red vests opened the elegant double door for us and I smiled at both and walked in with my "date". You know life's good when one can actually afford to rent out the grand-ballroom in DiNolfo's AND have 500 people at your party without even raising a brow at the cost. My eyes ogled at the extravagant Christmas tree that was set up at the top of the stairs and the luxurious chandelier that lit up the foyer of the banquet hall.

Guests kept pouring in by the dozens, each and everyone greeted by the host…Eduardo Antonio "Double-Dips" Juarez. The man is just about my size, short for a man, but has this power and charisma that never ceases to amaze me. Ask anyone who knows him and they'll say he's a sweet man; ask any of his enemies and they'll say he's ruthless and volatile…he's a man of many faces. Sneaking a peek up at Randy I notice that his eyes are fixed on Dip's not 1 BUT **12 **trophy wives/girlfriends that are lines up in beautiful evening dresses along the stairs doing what they do, smiling and looking pretty.

Elbowing him, "Earth to Randy!"

He winces and blinks, "Huh?"

"You're practically drooling…control yourself, big boy.", tell him as I drag him over to greet Dips

Casually making my way to the host, I tap him on the shoulder and he turns around, "_Tio, se mira mas guapo que la ultima vez que lo mire._", I say playfully

He swats me lightly, "_Gracias! Las viejas siempre me dicen lo mismo."_, he replies and we both laugh, except for Randy who sofly nudges me

"Oh. _Tio, este es mi amigo, _Randy Orton.", tell Dips

Dips skeptically gazes up at the wrestler by my side and then pulls out his hand for a shake, "Ah, I know your _papa_, Bob Orton…yes? You wrestler for the WWE, I've seen you…good job, 'lotta potential."

Randy shakes Dip's hand, "Yes, I'm his son and yes, thank you…I'm Randy, nice to meet you sir."

Laughing heartily, "Nice man, nice man. We business partner him and I. Where are my manners? I'm Eduardo Juarez, _placer es todo mio._" He tells Randy. Putting an arm loosely around my shoulders, "Now, boy…no funny business with my little _sobrina_, eh.", he warns playfully

Randy laughs, "I promise, sir."

Eduardo chuckles and lets me go, "Alright, now go on in and enjoy…food will be served once everybody is settled in.", he calls over a server, "Sit them at table 15.", talking to Randy and me, "Wesley and the rest are there. Enjoy!"

* * *

><p>Weaving through the sea of gorgeously arranged tables, the server showed us to our table. Though, I questioned what Dips meant by the term "others". I knew we were near since I spotted Wesley and also because of him standing up and bringing us the rest of the way.<p>

Before we stepped any closer, "Mar, now don't bust a cap but..." his tone didn't seem like good news, "Phil, Maria, and Colt are sittin'—"

"How the fuck are they here already, they Fast and the Furious it here?", I rub my temples, "As long as Pest and Bitch are far from me…I'll be good.", taking Randy's hand in my own, I pushed through Wesley and proceeded to walk gracefully towards the table.

Life has a great way of arranging things, you know? First, it puts in some tragedies. Then a couple of grueling, sad, angering situations, and tops it off with shit you just can't seem to find the positives in. I say this because, as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death…I spy with my little eyes a culprit…a snake…one that goes by the name, Luz.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N- **_Tension and deceit mixed in with a little cutesy shit. Long chapter._

_Big ol' thanks to my reviewers: **housebabe1, xErickax, LeylaChaz, InYourHonor.** . . and a big hug for **Mittens17**, you're review made my lousy morning a whole lot better. I love you. Thank you for your compliments and I'm not telling, hehehehe. Gotta read!_

_BUT again, thank you all, really (:_

Stopping in mid-step I crane my neck in the direction of my boss and send him a cold, icy glare. Believe the phrase "If looks could kill", **believe it**. Turning back to stare down the rat, Luz, I notice that the broad smirks as if she's triumphant. _Far from it, sloppy hoe. _With a smirk of my own, I continue to drag Randy over and take my seat next to Micks with Randy on my other side. Wesley hesitantly walks over and takes his seat next to Luz. Phil, Maria, and Colt all sit directly in front of me; all seem to be waiting for something.

"So…Wesley. I thought you said the _rat _had a get-together with _IT's _own kind.", that's me initiating the start of a **very** interesting night

Wesley drags a hand down his face, "Doll, can we not?"

As I open my mouth for a reply, Luz steps in, "HA! Rat? Marleene, Marleene…Marleene childish little Marleene."

"Says the one wearing her 12 yr old sister's dress.", I comeback

"_Chistosa._", she says scowling, "I came because MY man was gonna be lonely tonight.", she kisses Wesley's cheek, "Didn't want no _slut _to keep him company.", caressing his cheek with her cat claws

"A SLUT keeping him company so ANOTHER slut won't? That's logical.", under the table Micks smacks my thigh

With her head up high, "Takes one to know one.", Luz looks at her nails, "Word on the street is that a certain _tramp _named Marleene has been busy on Barker givin' BJs and shit."

Through my peripheral, I spot Phil's jaw set conspicuously, while to his left Colt texts, and Maria…the bitch has the nerve to chuckle under the cover of her hand. Fuming, I lean over the fucking table, "Look sweetheart, IF I were you and had I don't know…HALF A BRAIN…I'd stay my ass real quiet because even though I have class and manners… I WON'T give two shits when I whoop THAT flat ass of yours…I'll take great pleasure.", I feel a hand on my ass and turn around to death glare the owner

"Your goods were hangin', dear.", whispers Randy with an amused smirk, "Sit down, tigress."

"So quick with those dry threats…", laughs Luz, "Coming from somebody who got shanked by her ex-man…If I were YOU…I'd be a careful little whore.", she gazes into my eyes with a sinister smile and all I'm thinkin' is how the fuck she found out so fast, "You never know when or where you'll find a **real** threat."

"Is _that _a fucking _threat_?", I seethe and all she does is giggle. My vision goes red and in a second I go in for the kill. I slide over the table succeeding in spilling wine all over the bitch's skimpy dress but two strong hands pull me back before I can cause further damage, "NEVER threaten me."

Standing up straight, I straighten out my dress and sit back down with a smile. As if nothing occurred, I start small talk with Micks and Randy, leaving a brooding Luz to stomp her way to the restrooms along with a very annoyed Wesley. People in tables nearest to ours stare but as per usual I DON'T CARE. Some time passes by and our first course is served and still no sign of Boss-man or his pet rat. My mouth waters at the delicious platter before me. Randy has been off for awhile, like mentally.

Nudging the handsome man, "You feelin' alright, Randy?"

His eyes are distant, yet, he responds, "I see Sam."

My eyes roam to where his lead and I too spot the redhead and her child, Addie. Looking at Randy, I catch a glimpse of something I haven't yet seen…Vulnerability and fright, "You don't have to."

"I-I…I was raised better than to cower out of this responsibility…Look at her…she's so…so…_beautiful_."

Once more I look over at the table were Samantha or Danielle or whatever sits with her young daughter. Sam, let's call'er that, chats with the people at her table, smiling and laughing as if it's goin' outta style. Addie sits on a chair far too big and plays with a doll in her hands. Her smile, her eyes, her facial structure has Randall Orton written all over. The man who procreated the child still stares with a sudden longing, "Enjoy yourself for awhile…THEN we can go over and yeah…", the wrestler nods and looks at his vibrating phone

Somebody taps me on my thigh and I turn to face the person. It's my nephew, Dominick who has been passed out since the beginning of the dinner. Smiling cheek to cheek, I pick him up and place the child on my lap, "Hey sleepyhead, get a good sleep?"

Rubbing his eyes and yawning, "Yup. Woke up feelin' like a new man!"

I laugh and hear Micks laugh too, "Sweety, guess who Marleene brought.", she asks her son with excitement

Dom's curiosity is peaked and he looks over to Randy, who just smiles. Dom's eyes shoot open and he covers his mouth, "Auntie, that's the Legend Killer!", he whispers loudly, "The one you always call 'sexy'.", the tiny human shivers with displeasure and I laugh…embarrassedly as Randy laughs

"Thanks for puttin' me out there, munchkin.", I mumble, "You wanna say 'hello'?", Dominick nods excitedly. Rotating with the child on my lap, I face a STILL laughing Randy. Glaring at him, "Randy this is the greatest little man in the world…my nephew, Dominick."

Extending his hand, Randy smiles, "Hey bud, nice to meet ya'."

Nudging Dom, he takes out his hand and shakes Randy's, "Hello.", is all the kid utters

Eventually, Dom and Randy begin to talk about wrestling and the like. As Micks and I gossip, the pregnant woman winces in pain, "You okay?"

Rubbing her stomach, "Yeah…this baby has been bouncy lately.", she takes my hand and places it over her tummy; as if on cue, a tiny kick can be felt which makes me jump a little taken off guard.

Micks talks to her tummy and the simple gesture warms my heart. She's been so strong throughout her pregnancy…it never stops amazing me. _She's gonna be a great moms, I know it._ "What you gonna name the baby?", I ask still feeling around in hopes of another kick

"Eleanor Grace, after my mother and my sister.", the hormones that control the poor girl make her tear ducts water

With a sad smile, I wipe away my bestfriend's tears and talk to her growing child, "Y'hear that? You gonna be a little badass. Believe me, little one…those women were the craziest bitches.", Micks laughs and smacks me lightly…causing ME to laugh

Facing forward as I spot the next course arriving, I notice olive-greens watching me. The smile that graced my face moments ago disappears. Awkward how the table is divided up; you'd think we'd let up in spirit of the holiday. Sneaking a peek at Phil, his eyes are still on me but then focus on his girlfriend as she whispers something, probably dirty, in his ear. Colt watches me watch his main-man and shakes his head with a knowing smirk. My hand takes hold of a roll and I chuck it at him but due to my lack of hand-eye coordination, it hits somebody in the next table. I shrink in my seat laughing as the person turns around to glare at Colt.

Across the table, Maria shrieks with joy causing everybody to stop their mini-conversations and just stare at her. She doesn't even seem to mind the sudden attention. Woman just hops off her chair and glides over to the aisle, standing on the tips of her outrageously tall heels, and searches for somebody. In her wake, Phil sits with a somewhat displeased scowl and sips on his non-alcoholic drink and talks to his buddy Colt in a hushed tone.

Another shriek erupts and my attention travels back to the very excited woman. In heels and all she runs into the arms of a man. My jaw hits the floor as I recognize the man and the fact that Maria, a taken woman, has just pecked the guy…on the lips. Seconds later they begin to make their way over and I quickly turn back, acting as though I saw nothing. EVERYBODY at the table acted like that, even Phil himself. The man didn't even show any hint of anger or disgust or anything.

Hand in hand, Maria and her new guest arrived at our table. All of us stood up, "You guys, this is my friend, Dave Batista.", she introduces him with a cheery smile

Dominic goes up the wall, gasping and shit, "It's Batista!"

Dave smiles the boy and talks to him for a minute before going around the table and greeting everyone. He stops at me and wags his brows, "So…we meet again."

"I guess so…but I thought you had a party or somethin', Randal told me.", I asked him with a suspicious smile

"Yeah, this one. Maria tex—", the man stutters and I know that he let it slip, "text me to come through and well yeah…I'm here.", he smiles cheesily

Hugging him, "Well, enjoy."

Dave moves onto his co-worker and man-hugs the dude. They talk in hushed voices while shooting discreet looks at Phil and his girl. The "Animal" then goes to take his seat…next to the ever lovely Maria. _It's goin' to be an interesting night._

* * *

><p>Close to 1 in the morning, the live band had already arrived and started playing classical music, guests filled up most of the tables, and we were already on the dessert course. Yet, still no signs of the culprit, the rat…not that I minded but Wesley did arrive with hickies and phoneless. <em>SLUT.<em> Dips made his grand appearance, "_Buenas noches! _How are all of you?", most of the crowd said "good", "Nice to hear such a pleasant crowd. _Como ya saben_, welcome to my yearly Christmas get-together. All of you, my lovely guests, have been invited for a reason…so thank you for coming.", the crowd claps, "Now, Christmas is a beautiful occasion, MY favorite, maybe it's the snow that falls making a winter wonderland, maybe it's the ability to come home and sleep under mountains of blankets, or maybe for the fact that…PRESENTS!", he chuckles heartily and so do we, "Maybe it's just the warmth of being able to be around the important people in my life…yes, I think that's the reason. Christmas is about the _importancia _of family and love not the presents or how drunk you're gonna get. So please do me a favor and drop the negatives, whether it's an argument or cheating or ANYTHING…just drop it for tonight…tomorrow, hell go at it again!", another roar of laughter, "_Ahora, me gustaria hacer un brindis _for Christmas, love, family…life! So please, stand up, lift your drinks…be it beer, soda, juice.", he waits for all of us to stand up and raise our drinks, "_Salud a paz, harmonia, y amor…Feliz Navidad."_, a mariachi band starts to play the song, "Feliz Navidad" and people all around start to clink their glasses with their loved ones and start of the hugs and shit.

At our table everybody clinks their glasses with one another, except Phil, Randy, and me—we all avoid each other (well Randy and I avoid Phil). Maria clinks her glass with Dave first and gives him a very intimate hug and THEN moves to her boyfriend. She doesn't even have the decency to kiss him; Phil doesn't mind, he moves to Colt and they man-hug. Then, he travel all the way to his baby sister and nephew. He scoops up Dominick, kisses his cheek, and tousles his hair. _Aw…_ With the little boy in one arm, he hugs his pregnant sister warmly, and whispers something in her ear that makes her laugh.

Those olive-greens peer at me and I turn around and hug Randy. The man wears his signature smirk and I pinch him, "Stop smirking."

Running his hands sensually down my sides, "Can't help it…the dude is glaring daggers at me. Fucking jealous.", he whispers

I tense up, "Wait…what?"

"You heard, jealous. I've noticed those little looks all night…he's jealous."

Pulling away from his grasp, "Stop shitting."

"I'm not. Look, I'm gonna pretend to lean in for a kiss and the man is gonna either stomp off or come and cockblock.", Randy didn't even gimme a chance to move before leaning in for a quick peck

Somebody coughed behind me and I closed my eyes. Turning around, it's Phil. My date for the night snakes his arms around my waist and plants a kiss on my cheek letting his lips linger, "Look at the boy, he's practically dying.", he whispers and nuzzles my cheek.

Playing it cool, I smile at Phil and whisper to the man with his arms around me, "Okay, hotshot. I can tell. Stop enjoying yourself and let go."

Reluctantly, the wrestler unwraps his arms and leaves for a drink but not before smirking proudly at Punk. As he passes by, Punks "accidently" bumps into him and they stare off for a minute. Coughing nervously, "So…", _Marleene, you're one smooth bitch._

Punk digs his hands in his black dress-pants, "Yeah…", he winces slightly as I see Micks elbow his ribs, "So…I just wanted to call truce, y'know, in spirit of the holidays."

Raising an eyebrow, "You don't sound too convinced."

Scratching at his gelled-up hair, "Look, doing this is like chopping off my balls…could you not?"

Crossing my arms, "I'm not in any way pleadin' for a truce. Ain't nobody holdin' you at gunpoint, either."

Frowning, "Micks is threatening with never speaking to—OW!", he turns around to reprimand his youngest sister for elbowing him a bit too hard. Taking this opportunity, I snake my way over to the bar where my date is located.

* * *

><p>What should've been a 5 minute walk becomes a 15 minute one because of the men who'd ask me to dance and wouldn't take "no" for an answer. <em>Annoying ass paisas. <em>Alas, I arrive and stand next to a pensive Randy, "What's on your mind, stud?"

Orton jumps a bit nearly spilling his drink, "Trynna get some encouragement from my friend, Jack.", he raises his drink

Frowning, I snatch "Jack" from his grasp and give it to a passing waiter, "You can't go over and meet your kid all hammered and shit.", I reprimand, "Come with me, I'll be there so you won't be AS scared.", holding his hand we begin to weave through the tables over to Sam's table.

"FYI, I'm not scared, nervous, but never scared."

"Who you trynna convince, me or yourself?", I reply with a slight smirk and he scowls

Creeping closer to Sam's I notice that she's left alone with another of her co-workers. The woman looks so beautiful in her metallic silver cocktail dress and stands of loose red-hair falling about her face, as opposed to her seeing her in her work clothes. Both Randy and my vision is fixated on the cute little curly-haired girl at her side.

Whispering under my breath, "This is it…", Randy vice-grips my hand and I plaster a smile on my face ignoring the pain, "Sam…", I sing out

The red-head looks in my direction and smiles, "Oh hey, I didn't know you'd be here…", she stands up and shakes my hand before noticing the presence of her babydaddy. Her smile falters, "Well what a wonderful surprise…", she says sarcastically

"Wonderful it is, Sam.", replies Randall with a sexy smirk

Under her breath, "Sucha fucking nuisance…"

"What was **that**?", asks her babydaddy and I elbow him in the ribs

The little child shyly wobbles over and tugs at her mother's dress. Sam's scowl is replace with a sincere, loving smile as she picks up her young toddler. _Motherly love seems so beautiful._

"Who's this beautiful lil' lady?", I ask the child whilst shaking her hand

Said toddler smiles shyly and hides in the crook of her mom's neck, which causes me to giggle a bit, "C'mon, baby…tell, Marleene your name.", croons Sam

Slowly, the curly-haired toddler looks towards me, "I'm Addie.", she says shyly

_So cute! If only kids could be like this 24/7, _"Sucha pretty name. My name is Marleene and this is my uh…_friend, _Randy.", motioning to Addie's dad

Sam shifts uncomfortably and Randy looks at me with uncertainty, "Um…hello, I'm uh…Randy."

Addie smiles at him. Sam takes her over to her co-worker and drops her off before sauntering back to us. She motions for us to follow her and we do. Once we arrive to her designated destination, the vacant conference room next door, she shuts the door behind us and stares Randy down, "Cutting to the point, what's your agenda, Randy?", eyeballing him carefully

Feeling awkward, "I'll uh just…leave.",

As I start sneaking my way to the door, "Bah. Stay. I need a witness.", demands Sam. Huffing a bit I plant myself against a wall and hope to not have to be a referee, "I'm still waiting on that cunning little lie of yours."

Sitting on the edge of the conference table, Randy speaks up, "I thought about what you said yesterday err this morning or whatever… I wanna be involved.", he whispers

Sam seems to be blank but then starts laughing without a bit of humor, "Oh please…please tell me you're joking. People, normal ones, don't change their minds in a second. Really, tell me your sick agenda."

"Look, I admit that before you showed me picture of that beautiful little girl, I NEVER gave a second thought. But I don't know…looking at the innocence…the smile…the eyes…did shit to me. I can't deny how much she looks like me…my mom, God have her in his grace. I know I can't go back and change the past BUT I'd like a chance to-to step-up. Be the father she deserves…one she'll be proud to have. Maybe I'm not fit, hell…I don't think I am but…but, I'd at least like to try. Whatever happened between us, happened; no point in regretting or denying…I was raised better than how I reacted.", Randy turns to me for a millisecond, "If it can avoided, why have another fatherless rebel in the world?", he pushes off the table and gets on his knees, bowing his head, "Please…I-I just want a chance. All I ask for, Sam.", the gesture was SO sweet; I felt my eyes well up. _Ah, Marleene you've turned soft._

Addie's mom wearily eyes her babydaddy, "Uh…", it showed on her face the war of emotions, "Are you like for real? Honestly.", she bites her lip

"Cross my heart and hope to die.", he says looking into her eyes

A period of silence passes before either of the two speaks, "Okay.", whispers Sam

Randy's face contorts into confusion with a pinch of relief, "What?"

"I said, okay.", she states with more confidence in her voice

In his excitement and relief, the WWE wrestler jumps up nearly bumping his head in the process and bear hugs the mother of his child, sucking the breath outta her. At this I chuckle. Few seconds later, Randy lets go, "Uh…sorry. I just…thanks."

With a small smile, "We're gonna have to try and get along for the sake of Addie, y'know?", he nods in agreement, "And promise me something, 'kay?"

"Anything."

Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, "That no matter the circumstances, you won't bail on my baby…be-because…", her lips tremble and eyes flutter open with unshed tears, "that'd be devastating to her."

I shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though I was invading a way too intimate moment. Randall hugs his babymomma, "Never. I can promise that.", he pulls away, "Sam, we may know next to nothing about each other but I can ASSURE you that I keep my promises.

A text was all it took. A text changed Randy's life forever. That text brought in his daughter.

With Addie sitting on the conference table playing with her doll, we sat around her, "Baby, listen.", says Sam patiently

"Yeah.", mumbles her daughter. Her attention span no longer than any child's

"Baby, I gotta tell you something.", says Sam tickling her child

Giggling, "Mommy stop. Tell me!"

"Remember when you asked who your Daddy was?"

Addie nods, "No daddy.", she continues to play with her doll

Randy seems discouraged, "I lied.", replies Sam

The little girl gasps, "Bad mommy!"

"I know, baby. Sorry. You wanna know who you're daddy is?"

"No.", says Addie still toying with her doll

"Why?", asks her mother

"Santa 'posed to bring me a Daddy", replies the child

"Baby, look at me.", Addie does, "Santa came and dropped him off, baby…Ra-Randy is your daddy.", Sam pats Randy's forearm

Cocking her head to the side, "Daddy?"

Clear-blues glisten and a small smile appears, "Ye-yeah. I'm your daddy, sweetheart."

Never have I experienced something as beautiful as this. Well, maybe the birth of Dominick…the moment in which Phil first told me he loved…any who, nothing quite like this. The simple beauty of a man stepping his cookies up and taking the first step into fatherhood.

Addie drops her doll. Her eyes glisten with tears of joy and tiny lips tremble, "Daddy!", she flies in to his arms and little sobs erupt from her, "Da-daddy."

Being the women we are, Sam and I both cry and smile at the cute moment. Randy finally lets his tears shed and holds his daughter as if he needed her like lifesupport, muttering "sorry" and "I love you".

Minutes pass by and while Addie has stopped crying, Randy still hold her tight, "Don't cry, daddy. I love you.", she wipes his tears and from that moment my longing for my own father's embrace and love pegs at me

Sometime later, Randy embraces me, "You're the best.", he whispers in my ear, "Thank you, seriously."

"No problem, that was all YOU, champ.", I say smiling

"I feel the beginning of a beautiful FRIENDship…trust me, I don't have many of those with women."

"Oh, I bet.", I banter.

* * *

><p>Excusing myself, just so the tiny newly-formed family would get the time they needed, I left the conference room. Bachata music could be heard, which sways my interest to dance and begin my night off fresh. As I pass a seemingly random door, I hear panting. This DEFINITELY peaks my interest.<p>

"Oh Daaa-ve…", moans a voice, a _familiar _voice

"Ma—oh fuck…Maria be q-q-quiet…people bound to…shit…hear us.", my mouth, figuratively, hits the floor and eyes fall out of their sockets, again figuratively. And I wonder why I have such luck.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N- **So, these last 6 chapters have been more or less the proudest moments in my writing history. This one included. I hope ya'll like it.

Haven't re-read because I know I'll end up trashing it…ideas only ever sound good in my head, haha.

_**shadowgrneyes**__- Your review literally made me cry a bit…I think it was a little too much, my crying, but that made me feel accomplished. Getting a shysty reader out of the unknown and yeah. THANK YOU times quadruple (:_

_**LeylaChaz- **__HAHA! I just HAD to do it. BUT, eh I don't know if she's gonna remain the only cheater… (;_

_**housesbabe1- **__Thank you, thank you. I'll make sure to get around to it (:_

_**xErickax- **__LOLOL! Oh my, how colorful. I love emotion! Don't worry, my mom thinks that of me every time I ask her if something is logical in my FANFIC lolol!_

**Disclaimer- **Only my OCs belong to me!_  
><em>

"Por Volverte a Ver" by Los Angeles de Charley (not exactly a Banda, for all my latinos, but FUCK IT-my story, my exceptions and tweaks)

CHAPTER 37

So here I am an innocent bystander, a witness, a spectator…call me whatever BUT facts are facts: I have just heard my suspicions come to life just behind that door. Yes, behind **that** door are Dave Batista and Maria, Punk's girlfriend doing _whatever_. What should I do? Should I snitch OR take my revenge on Phil, _for being an asshole and fucking jerk—whatever_, in this form? Phil wouldn't give a flying fuck; I mean he DID see his bitchass girlfriend smooch the other man. He also stated that his relationship wasn't so serious, but he said THAT 2 months ago…he probably has been with her for long which defies the whole "casual" part…_you're over-thinking, mami._

Before my thought process has any more time to swim into deeper thought, I hear the handle swivel as if it were to open. _RUN, BITCH,RUN! _I scurry off as if I have just been speared in the ass. My destination is the bathroom on the far side of the room. In my attempt to get away ASAP, I crash into the wall or what felt like one. Rubbing my shoulder I looked up and frowned at my ultimate luck…having run into wall would've been preferable BUT being that my luck is "abundant" I ran into the "loveable", Phil Brooks.

"My fucking luck…", I grumble

"Luck is for losers, sweetheart.", smirks Phil

An immense frown consumes my face, "You're so fucking aggravating. _Me cais tan gordo aveces te quiero hasta..._UGH! I swear, you're bipolar or somethin'."

He raises an amused eyebrow, "Come again?"

Blowing a strand of hair away from my face and crossing my arms, "Sometimes you act like such a sweet guy, other times you're this over-inflated egomaniac, and other times you're just…_confusing_.", his stare makes me uncomfortable so I become self-conscious and start fixing my dress, "Is this how you are with everybody, a little bipolar asswipe?"

His eyes move about my face, "Maybe because **you** confuse me…", he mutters quietly. Through the loud music I still manage to hear him and I'm left speechless, "Have you seen Maria?", he asks changing the subject

Figuring that the moving of the doorknob was a false alarm, I shake my head. Hearing a door open I quickly turn Punk so that his back to the other side of the room.

"Woah…what the hell?", he says balancing himself out. Behind him I spot Maria and Dave trying to fix themselves so they'd look halfway decent. Dave sees me and quickly takes Maria by the arm and drags her back into the party.

"The-there was a creep staring at me the wrong way…"

"Shouldn't you be used to all that attention?", asks Phil with a displeased look

Rolling my eyes, "You clearly paid no attention to my speech back in the hospital, did you?", as he opens his mouth to reply, "Save it. Let's go back in.", walking in front of him I try to ignore the sadness that ebbs at me

Inside, the chandeliers have been dimmed to barely any light except for the glowing of the neon lights and colorful discoballs. People, well most, have long abandoned their seats and entered the dancefloor. The band plays an upbeat Duranguense. Bodies moving about the dancefloor like hyper penguins.

"How the hell do you guys dance like that?", asks Phil to nobody in general

"Same way you walk…by learning.", I reply smartly

Observing my surroundings, I find Micks chatting intimately with Wesley and her kid sleeping soundly in her lap. A couple empty seats away, Colt chats up this brunette. If I squint, I can see Maria and Dave canoodling which sets off my alarms. 'Cus if I can barely see them, Phil can sure as hell see. _Why do you care so much? _I wish I knew…well I do. My feelings for Phil may be hurt and utterly confused but I still care about the man.

"Dance with me.", it comes off as more a demand than a question

"Me?", asks Phil

My face falls and a hand drags itself across my face, "Noooo…the wall."

"Well in that case, KNOCK YOURSELF OUT!", replies Punk with an over exaggerated smile

My patience is running shorter and shorter each time this man…this BOY opens his windpipe, "Aren't you just funny…Dance with me."

Punk puts up his hands defensively, "Spare me. I don't dance."

Another quick eye in the cheating girlfriend's direction, "Well, now you do.", I latch onto his arm and drag him to the dancefloor.

Just as we arrive the song end and the DJ comes on, "_Aqui esta una para los enamorados, despechados, primeros amores, etc."_, subsequently a Banda song comes on and I inwardly groan. _SUCH LUCK!_

"Yeah, I'm out.", Phil makes to leave but I refuse to let him go, "Just a few minutes ago you were declaring you hatred towards me and now you can't seem to get enough of me.", smirks the man

_You should be an actor. _Rolling my eyes, "You know, this is me trying to be civil and leave things behind…like Dips wanted earlier tonight…"

Toying with his lip-ring, "Earlier you ACCUSED me of faking my suggestion of civility.", he quips

Groaning out loud, "You're stubbornness is still intact, I see…always fucking pissed me off.", I mutter

He laughs, "HA! And how 'bout you Little Miss Perfect? Just as stubborn and demanding as always…"

Scoffing, "Demanding?"

He smirks, "Yes, dear."

"You're so…UGH!", couples around us look at us with awkward glares, "Can we just…?"

"Just so you won't explode…why, Marleene…may I have this dance?", he asks bowing and the like

"Keep your shit up and that arm that is s'posed to be in a sling WILL be needing one, eternally…", relaxing a bit I follow along, "But yes, I would love to."

"Well you're sure nice to cripples…", he mumbles, "How exactly do you dance to this?"

Positioning myself face to face in front of him, "Okay, you know how to ballroom dance?", he nods and proceeds to place his left hand on my waist, pulling me closer to him. His right hand interlace with mine. I'm close enough to feel his sweet, minty breath on my face. My face feels warm, and I'm glad it's too dark to show, "Um…okay. This goes…", I drag our hands upward so our arms our basically in the air and readjust myself so his knee is closer to being in between my thighs. _So intimate…so sexual?, "_Uh… just follow my lead, yeah?", we start moving. Phil steps on my foot but I keep in the pain. Another song passes and he's getting the hang of it.

A classic Banda song comes on and my heart drops at the familiar tune. This was one of a couple of songs I had on replay during the Depression, that's what I like to call the time between getting over Phil and yeah…

_»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»»_

Punk holds me closer, I can feel every part of his toned chest…and a lil some' else. His eyes burn into mine, hypnotize me. He opens his mouth as if to say something but refrains. His eyes seem to tell me something.

_Por volverte a ver,  
>Caminaria al mundo<br>Pisando espinas sudando mi alma  
>Rasgando mis pies.<em>

"Tell me what the guy is singing…", whispers Phil

Caught between bullshittin' and telling him the truth…I just tell him, "Just to be able to see you I'd travel the world: stepping on thorns, sweating out my heart, splintering my feet…"

"He must've loved that girl, huh?", he looks deeply into my eyes and I look away, "I dunno I'd fuck up my feet for…", his sentence runs off

_Por volverte aver  
>Hoy dulce cambiaria<br>El resto de mi vida  
>Por solo una noche contigo piel a piel.<em>

"Just to be able to you again, I'd sweetly change the rest of my life for just one night with you…skin to skin.", I remember having thought the same…for just ONE night, ONE moment with Phil.

"I remember thinking the same, Marleene…", this hit me like a tidal wave. _Is he…?_

_Por solo una noche el resto de mi vida  
>Por solo una noche contigo querida<br>Y si existe vida despues de la muerte  
>Tambien yo la cambio por volverte a ver.<em>

"Uh…For only one night…one for the rest of my life; for only ONE night with you, love. And if there's life after death, I'd change THAT too…just to see you once more…", my lips tremble…_some many wishes, hopes…dreams_

_Y es que tu fuiste mi primer amor,  
>Y otro igual yo no he vuelto a encontrar<br>Aunque caigan angeles del cielo  
>Un amor primero no se puede olvidar<em>

"It's 'cus you were my…um… first love, and another…I haven't found, ever…", I blink off to the side. _This is so awkward…_"Even if angels fall from the sky, a first love is unforgettable…"

"I could never forget you…even after I left…you were on my mind like a tumor, a decease…", Phil talks in a mere whisper… as if he's in a trance.

"Stop…", my heart paces up and I stare into his eyes with a surprised look

_Por volverte,  
>Me meteria a un cuento<br>A pedirle a un genio que cambie  
>Mi tiempo de hoy por ayer<em>

Trying to pass his… his confession, "Jus-just to see you, I'd enter a story where I'd be able to ask a genie for a wish…one where I'd be able to go back in time…", tears blur my vision. _If only genie's existed…_

"Kept wondering if I'd stayed or brought you along…we'd be together or—or you would not have done my brother…That you would've waited on me. I wished so badly to change the hand of time to go back and—"

"Phil…just…just don't…", my brain couldn't process his words as being truthful, not after all his venomous words in the days passed.

_Por volver a ver  
>El brillo de tus ojos<br>Cuando te hacia mia  
>Bajo aquel cielo rojo de aquel atardecer.<em>

Trying to move "his confession" away, "Just to be able to-to see you…The glimmer of your eyes when I'd make you mine…under the red sky…"

"Was he good?", whispers Phil in my as I'm averted from his gaze. His question, along with his cool breath makes me shiver

I gasp internally, facing him…eye-to-eye, "W-what?"

His brows furrow together, "We'd known one another for sometime…even when I dated you, FELL FOR YOU…", he closes his eyes and whispers, "Why? Why my brother; he betrayed me…& you did him. Your first…he stole that from me too."

"Is that why you're mad?", I whispered feeling anger

His eyes shoot open, "How-how can you? I was—AM in love with you…everything. And that was just…I loved you and would've made it special—you fucked my BROTHER…", his eyes shimmered with emotion, "Aside from that, I'm in love with you…"

I'm left with words in my mouth; not knowing what or how to say what I want to so badly say.

_Por solo una noche el resto de mi vida  
>Por solo una noche contigo querida<br>Y si existe vida despues de la muerte  
>Tambien yo la cambio por volverte a ver.<em>

"I don't want you just for sex. I want you for all of you. I don't want a measly night…I want you for as long as I can have you…", Phil leans in, forehead to forehead, "I meant it when I said I love you. Back in the ambulance…", I gasp and shake my head, "I've been in love with you for the longest. Those eyes, icy yet beautiful always haunt me…draw me in. That gentle smile when you're pretending to be happy, I love it. That smirk you unknowingly pull…that look in your eyes when you something smart-assy, I love it. The way you sub-consciously fix your hair…your clothes, when somebody admires just how beautiful you truly are…I love it; even when the simple man gawks at you…it infuriates me but I can't do anything because you're not mine.", he breathes, "That laugh of yours…pisses me off so much… in the sexiest of ways. So fucking squeaky and I-I love it. When you're mad, which is constant these days, your face scrunches up and you swear like a fucking sailor; even better when you're mad at ME...I love it 'cus I know for that moment I'm the one pulling out that strong emotion…not anyone else. Hell, even when you're as stubborn as you were, as you ARE, HAVE been…I love it. When—"

"STOP. Please don't…", I plead, burying my face in his shirt. We're just standing there, in the middle of the floor with couple dancing all around us, "Just…don't keep on with your mind games…"

The warmth of his chest goes away and he holds my face in his hand as if he hold the world, "Mind games? Don't you remember me at all?", he asks a twinkle, a glint in his eyes

"I do…", I whisper, "I've remembered since my stay…Yo—you can't possibly love me…not after how wrong I did you. NOT AFTER…after you just asked me about your brother and asked me 'why'…not after all the shit you threw at me these couple of days…not-", I step away from his touch, "Y-you're probably going to manipulate me just so you'll do me how I did you.", wiping my tears, "But you don't I'm already hurting enough, with the regret and tha-that BITCH you have at your side. You say it's nothing serious but if I can recall…you don't do casuals…you MUST be in love with…her", opening my mouth to say something else…I retain myself and just scurry off as fast as I can.

Snaking and weaving, I finally make it to my destination: our table. Wesley, still without his pet, chuckles along with Colt and his brunette. A glowing Micks sips on her drink, completely content…well that's until I arrive all haute and bothered, "What's up, babes?", asks Micks concernedly

"I-I needa leave. LEAVE.", I shriek frantically

"Woah, woah…what the hell is wrong, nugget?", asks Wesley

"He…he…said…love…", I didn't know if it was just hyperventilation from the heat and running here or a panic but whatever it was…was cutting off my air supply

Micks cocks her head, and Wesley stands up, "Okay? Uh, letmee jus' call Luz and tell'er to pack it up…she hasn't come back in and she has my whip.", he plugs an ear and puts his cell to his ear

My worried bestfriend pats the chair next to her and offers up some water, "What's going on? You seriously got me worried now."

Calming down a bit, for her sake, "It's just that…he, uh…your brother told me…tol—", I recognize Phil's silhouette approaching and swiftly rise to my feet and scramble all the way to the front of the banquet hall where a random waiter asks me if I want a cheese ball, a couple men take puffs of their cancer sticks and have somewhat drunk conversations.

My legs keep moving, taking me in unknown direction, trudging through the snow…just knowing I needa get away. _That was what you wanted to hear, didn't you? WHY YOU RUNNING! _The voice…my conscience keeps rambling and I pull at my hair. My brain is on overload. My body shivers, my focus in on holding myself to keep warm and on the happenings. _He said he loved…LOVES you. Christmas wish number one? Are you—_Just as my conscience yells at me a familiar muscle car swerves in like the cars in the commercials, missing me only by a couple inches. My breath is taken away, and I feel like I've died. Soon, that moment passes and I go over to bitch out Wesley because that muscle car IS his and he DOES have a knack for doing crazy shit like that.

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Knocking furiously on the window of the driver's seat, I yell obscenities at who I think is Wesley. As I knock, the window rolls down revealing the true driver, Luz. From all these emotions running through me, anger steps up.

"BITCH, ARE YOU FUCKING BLIND…YOU FUCKING DUMB CUNT…YOU COULD'VE KILLED ME!", I yell trynna grabbed at her nastyass weave.

Opening the car door forcefully, she hits me with it. Letmee tell ya', getting hit with a car door on purpose hurts almost as much as getting rammed by a raging bull, "That was my intention, _puta._", she growls as I double over in pain

"Cunt…bitch…", I mumble out

Pulling me up by a yank of the hair, "_Tienes una boca…no me gusta…"_, she backhands me, "Good girl.", another one

Pain subsides and full out Hulk-type anger unleashes. Backing her up against the car with a slam, "Just like I warned you to NEVER threaten me…NEVER, EVER TOUCH ME.", my anger controls my actions, my only excuse for choking the troll.

The people previously smoking have gone back in and only the drunks standby chatting, not even noticing the drama that's unfolding.

Her eyes show fear and a twisted look of happiness, her lips curve in to a tight smirk, "No…use…slut…"

My brows furrow in confusion and anger. That's when I feel it.

Many times in my life have I wished to be dead, to be without a pulse. To be completely erased from the face of the world. These were times in my life where things seems so bleak; the idea of waking up so pointless. Dozens of times I'd stare longingly at pills in the cupboard, a tub full of sinkable water, a kitchen knife to seal the deal…and yet every time I was close enough…I never could.

In this very instant, as I stand in front compromising the airway of the person I despise with a passion hotter than the sun…as somebody stands behind me with a gun to the back of my head…I wonder if how things are right now…If it's even worth to keep living or more like, I try to convince myself that since I'm merely seconds away from death…continuing with my life is pointless; that I have nothing to live for.

Between my hands, Luz has already passed out from lack of oxygen. Trembling hands and all, I let her fall in a heap at my feet, fall in the dirty snow like the dirty bitch she is.

Putting on my brave, courageous, badass façade, "If you're gonna do it. Just do it. With no regrets; no second thoughts.", slowly I turn around to face Luz's accomplice, his weapon is pointed between my eyes and his hand shakes violently, "None at all. Don't even think about my family or loved ones.", I pause and blink away the tears threatening to fall, "Don't even think about how much l loved…and keep on loving you, _Noah_."

They say that when life is threatened all regrets, wants, the need to speak unspoken words, memories, and desire to keep on living…they clash.

_Such a pity, I don't wanna die…at least not now._


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N- **Don't kill me, yet.

-This is for you, Leyla hehe. BETTER PUT UP THAT CHAPTER!

Love, Conchaa-

CHAPTER 38

The shaky thump of the gun against my head gets me ever more nervous as seconds pass by. Should I be surprise that it's Noah? _Eh._ Should I be surprised that Luz would come to **this **conclusion? Yes, never in the time, years, I've disliked the woman did I ever think about taking her life. I am not her creator, I am not God—_not my job to choose a person's destiny or end of it for the matter_.

Direct eye-contact seems to lessen my fright. I'll probably go down and the expression etched on my face will forever haunt the man who sealed the deal. _Still trying to convince yourself? Fight to live! Can't go out like THIS! _As I stare, I absentmindedly notice that Noah wears all black, a cross—the very one I gave him a year into our relationship—_Oh the irony. _He even cleaned up: did his eyebrows, shave his stubble, and looks semi-decent except for the bags under his eyes and the redness in his eyes.

"Do it, Noah. No bluffin', no cowering…do it. Jus-just know that you'll be killing the one woman who loved you. Held you down through thick and thin, put up with your cheating, and—", he backhands me with the butt of his pistol. Landing with a thump on the cold, snow-covered ground, I notice my lip has been gashed open and a tooth loosened.

"STOP!", he screams almost pleadingly. Noah hold the gun at arm's length still pointed at me, and all I do it look at him. _Not gonna lie, I'm scared straight shitless_, "STOP! All I wanted was you to come back. NOBODY leaves me. Not my bitch…_not her_…I LEAVE'er.", his eyes glisten, "I-I love you, Marleene. YOU LEFT ME because you wanted to. Don' you 'member that I told you that if you left me…I'd go crazy…I'd die?", he says tears falling down his cheeks, drying up from the coldness

"Noah, you said so yourself…you don't love me…that I-I was pathetic. Noah, you cheated on me…WHY SHOULD I HAVE STAYED WITH YOU, A MASOCHISTIC BASTARD!", his face contorts into fury and eyes go livid. Whether I've made a mistake, I don't care…I take his kicks to the ribs.

"Always trynna make me feel like a fucking dumbass…Your ass should've just stayed…with me… Nobody wants… a loudmouth cunt…", he says as he stomps on me

In my attempt to ignore the pain being inflicted on me, I hear the shrieks and loud whispers of the previously unknown bystanders. Who knows how long they've been standing just watching. _Fuck you people…How can you just stand there?_ I close my eyes, pretending to not have noticed the slowly growing crowd. Once again I'm dragged up by the hair and for this I curse the person who made having hair an essential for women.

"Look at me, _pinche piruja._", he growls but I remain closed-eyed, "LOOK AT ME. Weren't you brave as fuck back then, huh?", the man shakes me but I don't break. Only feel the frosty air hit my wet back over and over.

"Auntie?", the wind carries over a tiny, miss-able voice. _Please don't let it be him, God._ "AUNTIE!", shrieks a boy, _my boy_.

"What the hell is…MARLEENE!", shrills the boy's mother, "NO, NO, NO! MARLENEE.", a struggle in her voice tells me she's being held back, "COLT LET ME GO, LE—DOMINICK…NO!"

Rushed footsteps through the snow let me know that my nephew was running towards me. _FUCK ME!_

"DOMINICK! BOY, NO…", yells a worried Wesley, his footsteps I can hear too.

"_MUCHACHO! NO TE VAYAS!_", shouts Dips

My eyes finally shoot straight open; Noah has this unreadable expression…a smirk on his face lets me know his intentions. He's staring at the two people, MY LOVED ONES, who are running towards me. His grip on me loosens a whole deal and he points, aiming in their direction.

Without a second to rethink, I dash. Dash like a madwoman because for these people, for them, I'd take a bullet. I'd walk through the deep depths of Hell…anything. A round of shots can be heard but I don't give a fuck, my only worry is to get to Dominic on time. If anybody can miss a bullet it's Wesley…he has fast reflexes but my babyboy…he's a goner should I not shield.

Searing pain—pain of which I've never before felt in my life…it rips and tears through me like…like I can't even describe. Pain that forces all the oxygen contained in my lungs to disperse. Pain…pain one that forces me to land on all four with eyes wide. Pain, the one I feel as the one child who I most adore stares at me with tears in his eyes…wait, it's more like sadness

"Auntie…you got a big boo-boo…", he whispers

As I struggle to keep focused, to keep pain away from my face, as I force myself not to cry, and as I force my to smile, "J-j-just a little one baby…little one…", my breath hitches and it's hard to breath, "Be good…", another round of shots I can hear through my weak and off hearing and I lunge at the tiny human with the last of my strength. People around shriek in fright, run all about the place like a herd of cows, "Baby… I…love you so much…"

A piercing shrill distorts my reality. I notice somebody go down not so far off and I pray to anybody above that it isn't who I think it is. _Not…please._

"Auntie? AUNT—", all I hear as pain, shivers, and darkness consume me.

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11 seconds. 11 seconds, the time people theorize that one's heart and/or brain keeps conscious…working after a fatal shot. 11 seconds where your life, no matter how you lived it or how LONG you did…11 seconds, every flashback flashes by. After those…you're gone. Then again, those people have never experienced death because if they had…_they wouldn't have told me in the first place_.

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"Marley…Marley, _mami mira a hacia la camara…_C'mon, babygirl.", croons a younger version of my father in 80's clothes and hairdo. We're in our old apartment.

A baby, she shakes her head shyly refusing to be seen…hiding behind her stuffed animal. A man, _tio _Vidal chuckles next to her while sipping on his Corona, "_Andale, mija, no sea asi._"

Another head shake and a woman appears, leaning against a doorframe smoking a cigarette…the woman seems to be pregnant, "_Estas pinche fumando_, Estella?", angrily asks my father to my…my _mother_

With a frown and look of 'I don't give a fuck-ness', "_Y que_?", she puffs out smoke, "_No ay pinche leche para mi_ cereal."

"Put that shit out Estella…c'mon now, the baby is here.", grumble my uncle

Groaning and rolling her eyes, "Always _baby this, baby that_…", she puts out her cancer stick, "I NEED MILK.", she says stomping off

My father closes his eyes tightly, frustrated at the woman, "_Cuida la nena…la "reina" esta de malas._", he walks over to me and smiles sadly, "_I'll be back, mija…portate bien, eh_.", he taps my nose and I giggle

As he leaves a toddler of about 4 or 3 wobbles in, "_Papi?_"

"I have to go, real quick. _Cuida tu hermana, _Fannie_._", he says barely acknowledging her

"But Daddy I gotta sho—"

"Not now."

He leaves with a sad Fannie in his wake. She crawls over to my uncle and me. She leans on my uncle, "_Tio, _why she get all attention?"

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Sun-shiny day, the breeze is perfect for once in the Windy City.

"Wesley, _mijo_, give Marley un _abrazito_.", asks Dips as we scowl at each other, "I'll give you 5 dollars!", bribes the cartel, self-professed businessman

"OKAY!", agrees an excited Wesley. He bear hugs me and I try to squirm away.

Once he lets go of me, "BU-but he put _mi _Barbie _en el_ mud!", I whine

"_Sabes que_, I'll buy you 2 to replace _esa_ Barbie, _si_?"

Crossing my arms in disbelief, anger, and plain brattyness, "_PERO ERA MI_ FAVORITE BARBIE, _TIO_!"

Off to the side, a young—I believe we were 4—Wesley snickers, "WESLEY!", exclaims Dips

The young boy tenses up and stops laughing, "Yes, sir?"

"_No te rias_, eh. Ask for forgiveness.", demand Dips

Pouting, "BUT—"

"_Hazlo o le dijo a tu mama._"

Turning to me, an upset Wesley rolls his eyes, "I'm sorry, Marleene.", he looks off to the adult handling the situation, "Sorry for putting your doll—"

"BARBIE.", I quip

He frowns even more, "your BARBIE in the mud."

Smiling, Dips pats the boy on the back. I on the other hand smirk proudly, "You're forgiven."

A while after Dips leaves to chat with Wesley's mother, "You lucky you're a girl."

Sticking out my tongue, "Whatever. I dunno why I even talk to you."

"Always knew girls were icky and dumb!", declares Wesley

I gasp disbelievingly

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Black top filled with chalk and abandoned jump-ropes, I observe as I walk over to the cluster of boys picking and choosing teamplayers for their soccer game. I'm new and it's my first day of 2nd grade.

Walking up to one of the boys, "Um…hey, can I play?", I ask shyly

He looks me up and down, elbows one of his friends, and giggles, "You? You're a GIRL.", this seems funny to more as they turn around

"So? I can play soccer. So, can I join?", I ask mildly embarrassedly

Another boy steps up, "Letmme think…NO!", he says blatantly and the group laughs

With my feelings hurt and all, I walk away. A hand grabs my wrist, "Wait up.", I turn and recognize the familiar face, "Marleene?"

"Wesley?", a smile makes its way across my face, "I haven't seen you since kinder!", way past the whole cootie era, I hug him

"Yeah, long time no see.", he says, "Where'dya go?"

"We moved and yeah…", I shrug

"Well, welcome back…Let's go play and leave these losers…", he says taking me in the direction of the swings.

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Walking to our first day of junior high, Wesley and I nervously talk about what we think is the most terrible day of our lives. Arriving at the front courtyard we spot a couple of old friends and a lot of new faces.

"You think there are gonna be bullies, dude?", asks my bestfriend Wesley

I shrug, "If there is, I got your back. C'mon, I see Ramses and the guys.", I say as I pull Wesley over. In the process I bump into this somewhat tall, dirty-blonde haired girl, "Oops, sorry.", I mumble with a nervous smile

Wiping hair from her face, "It's okay. Uh…can I ask you who your first period teacher is?"

Taking out my schedule, "It's…uh…Ms. Withers?"

She sighs, "Thank God, we have the same period.", she says smiling

Smiling with a bit of relief, "Well at least I won't have to be AS along…my name's Marleene."

"I'm McKenzie…call me Micks.", she says with a toothy smile

Wesley coughs awkwardly, "Oh this is my bestfriend, Wesley.", I state introducing them

Micks shyly waves and says, "Hello"

Wesley blushes and stutters on his, "Hey"

The bell rings and so starts off our first day. I hug and reassure Wesley and say goodbye until lunch. I walk with Micks to first block.

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"She was sooooo p'rrfect, Mars…", slurs a drunk Wes

It was a midnight of a breezy summery April. Beer bottles litter his whole porch and a big ol' stain his jersey. My female bestie, Micks had just broken up with my MALE bestie…3 days ago. Here he was slumped on a lawn chair, sipping on another bottle, and blubbering.

"I know but Nugget you fuuuucked up.", I said bluntly

Another sob, "Temp'ation…tha' shit…strong…Luz-Luz…", his train of thought left with another swig

I groan as I try to pry the beer from his grasp, "She's a whore! I really dunno what in God's name you saw in that pompous, flat-bootied BITCH.", I huffed out

Turning to the other side, "Stop…usin' those big words…She's pretty as fuck."

Kicking his freshly opened 12-pack, "Well then don't be here crying over Micks when you already got that floozy cuntbag.", with that I stormed off in the direction of the Brook's house

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As I fell asleep in 6th period Chem thinking about how nice it'd be if I had lunch right now with the rest of the crew, the P.A system went on waking me up.

"Can Marleene Soto please come down to the office?", THAT was no question…a demand.

As I walked by, everybody I knew saluted me and some 'ooo-ed'. Walking down the halls I pondered the reason for my being in trouble and what my exact defense was gonna be. With the office door in front of me I prayed for a minute and went in.

"Uh…I got called down?", I told the secretary person

She smiles warmly, "Go right in to Mr. Periwinkle's office, best of luck."

I tried to smile but her wish of luck was like a death sentence. I knocked before entering to see the principle playing on his GameBoy thing. I cleared my throat to state my presence. He quickly placed his electronic device in his drawer and stared at me, "Come with me young lady."

We make our way to the front of the school and I KNOW it's something BIG because students in gym class and lunch have gathered all around the front of the building. The spot Mr. Periwinkle and disperse somewhat, making a pathway for both of us. My mind is blown and breath taken away as I see what they have been seeing.

Laid out on the courtyard or whatever are DOZENS of fresh looking roses, all specifically placed to spell out the word 'Prom'. The question mark is made of lit-up candles of vanilla scent. Only somebody in mind could've known my likes and thing for vanilla scents and orange-peach colored roses. The person behind all of this sits patiently with a mariachi group. He sees me and motions for them to start playing.

My shaky legs take me to him slowly. My hands covering my mouth and eyes ready to shed tears. We meet halfway and he smiles that smile he gives when he's with me and only me.

"Hey", I manage to croak out

"Hey, _he-hermoso carino_.", he says with little confidence in what he's just said

My eyes furrow at the cuteness, "How'd you know that 'Hermoso Carino' is my favorite song?", I never got around to tell him but I did mention my love for mariachi bands

Diggin his hands into his jeans, "I asked your old man…", he says with a smirk

I roll my eyes, "So…"

He looks over to the crowd, "Well…I didn't spend most of my savings for nothing...", he turns to the mariachi and motions them to quiet down, he takes my hand, "Marleene, we've only been dating for…what? 2 months…We've known each other for a couple of months…They've been the best months in my life. I'm not gonna make a sappy speech because quite frankly—I suck at romantic shit, so Ima just ask: Marleene, will you please go to Prom…with me?", he pulls a nervous smile

Girls all around me gasp, fawn, and 'aw'. They all look at me with longing to know my answer. I open my mouth to respond and they lean in, "I-uh…", I look around and out of the blue kiss the boy…deeply. Somebody clears his throat and we separate, "Does that answer your question?"

Phil grins and lifts up our tangled fist like Freddie Mercury, "I GOT THE GIRL!"

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Dressed in a long elegant cut-out black dress, I walk through the open door which Phil holds open for me. We're currently in Navy Pier in one their biggest cruise ships…Prom couldn't have been anywhere better. I felt like a starlet with my man in a classy tux and hair skater-cut.

We lean against the railing admiring the full moon's reflection on the lake. Seems like a photogenic picture, a perfect scene in a cheesy love flick, "How captivating…alluring.", whispers my boyfriend

"I know…"

He wraps his strong arms around my waist and I feel a sense of security. "I was talking about you…"

Turning around for a frontal embrace, "Me?", he nods, "If you say so, Punk."

He caresses the side of my face, "You're probably the most interesting…most beautiful girl I've ever met.", he says as if hypnotized

I thank the darkness because he can't see how red I'm turning, "Oh stop it…", I say chuckling a bit

Both hands hold my face gently, "I'm serious. I don't even have to undo you your pants or top to see just how gorgeous you are. You don't even have to open that mouth of yours to know you're interesting. Beside the external…the internal…you're beautiful in every way; from your quirky way of eating fries with ice-cream to your extensive knowledge. I love how you get my fucked up sense of humor and always play along with my sarcasm. I love the way you think, the way you talk, the way you sound, the way you move, the way—I-I m in love with everything about you…", he stares into my eyes with uncertainty and nervousness, "I-I'm in love with…_you_."

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"You grab her arms and I her legs, aight?", commands a familiar voice

"Okay. On my count…", says another voice, "One…two…THREE!"

I feel myself lift off the wet ground in which I've been laying for who knows how much time. I groan as I swing side to side, in and out of consciousness. The swinging is too much and I finally speak up, "Le-let me go…I nee'a…", I puke to the side and a female voice shrieks and lets me fall almost hitting my head if not for my elbows.

"McKenzie wha'the fuck?", reprimands a masculine voice

"She puked, SORRY.", I can hear the pout in her voice

Blacking out once more, I wake up to the smell of smelling alcohol. I cough from the strong scent, "_Bueno, ya esta despierta la nena, mijo_.", states Elvira, Wes's mom

"Thanks Mom.", a side of the couch I'm laid out on slumps down, "Mar, you REALLY needa get your shit togetha', babygirl.", says Wesley as he rubs my leg

I close my eyes not wanting to hear his usual pestering, "Save it.", I mumble, "I've got a raging hangover."

His strong hand chucks a pillow at me, which makes me quite mad, "PHIL'S BEEN GONE…GET OVER IT. HE'S GONE BECAUSE YOU MESSED UP!", he yells out of washed away patience, "Just like you told me, I'm telling you."

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Waiting for Micks, I look up into the sky and wonder why she decided to phone me at 2 in the morning. She sounded so down…scared even. A silhouette arrives near my house and I turn on the porch light to get a clear of the person. It's Micks carrying her school book bag, lookin' like she has just run away…which she kinda has.

Walking up to her, I notice the tear stains on her cheeks and ruined make-up. I hug her without asking a question because that's what bestfriends do.

Later, she ends up confessing that she's knocked-up…just how I suspected. She was getting bigger, and not fat. The girl was 3months along—too long to even consider abortion. At the moment, she sleeps soundly on my bed and I on Fannie's long vacant bed.

Micks told me she worries about Ace's reaction and her dad's. Mr. Brooks is rarely ever home and when he is…he just _loves_ to terrorize his children. He's the Devil's bastard. Should he find out; _I don't even wanna know_. I felt despair as I look over at the sleeping girl not yet woman. In a few months time she'll be with a child in arms and probably looked down upon. Tears well up in my eyes but I promise her, as well as myself, that no matter what…I'll be there for her thick and thin, always.

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"Now, do you, McKenzie Brooks, take, Ace Welsh as your lawfully wedded husband?"

This is the moment every girl wishes for, the moment in which her Prince Charming becomes her husband forever and takes her into the sunset for a happily ever after. Life doesn't work that way, though. My bestfriend stands in a semi-decorated courthouse being married to her babydaddy for the sake of her child. Sure, they love each other but the thing is…Ace if soon to be shipped off to a military base which'll make him miss the important part of his son's life, "I-I do.", she says with a teary smile

"Then by the power invested in me by the state of Illinois, I declare you, husband and wife.", he smiles at both youngsters before him, probably putting money on how long they'll last, "You may now kiss the bride."

Ace pulls Micks into a passionate kiss, while the rest of us—rest of us being: a somber but acting cheerful Wesley, a teary-eyed Elle, her fiancé Joey, and me, applaud. Well, I try…I'm holding their 3 month old son, Dominick. The kid single handedly made me fall in love with him the day he first took a breath of air.

Walking out of the courthouse, Micks readjust her simple white babydoll dress that she bought for the occasion and screams to the heavens above just how much she's happy. I smile and hope for the best, and hold onto her baby while rubbing a saddened Wesley's hand.

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After the graduation ceremony, most of us hug and sob on the shoulders of those whom we won't be seeing after the day's over. I walk around hugging every single person who ever changed my life, even if it was in the smallest of ways. It'd been hell going through highschool but I'd finally made it.

I defied the odds. The stereotype of the minority: getting knocked up and drop out.

Having hugged so much left my arms sore as fuck, but then I saw my now longterm boyfriend, Noah. I ran into his arms and kissed him. He'd encouraged me to keep on with school…he waltzed into my life just when I most needed somebody. I invited him to my grad dinner but he apologized saying he couldn't because of plans with his own family.

Pops and my uncle sniffled a bit as I thanked them at my dinner. Caro bought me a gold bracelet engraved with my name…only affording it by using all of her life's savings. The gesture made me cry a river.

Wesley and his mom both attended. They were like a part of my tiny but close-knit family. I'd invited Micks but she said something about a brother coming through. I wonder if she meant Mike but I doubt it…none of us have heard from him in…years?

Anyway, during our second course, Dips came through. It was like unexpected. We hadn't seen the man in years…he moved to Mexico to start his "business"…the man was like a cartel. Wesley's mother noticeably tensed up like she always did whenever he was around.

"_Ah, familia…", _he comes around hugging all of us and put his arm around Wesley, "So nice to finally see my favorite kiddos start out their life…SO PROUD of you—especially you, _mijo_.", he says squeezing Wes

"Thanks, sir.", at this Dips's smile lets up a little

"Let's eat up. I have something to show ya'll.", he took his seat next to a still tense Elvira

Turns out the thing he wanted us to see was the tattoo parlor he bought a frenchy. Dips had it pimped out over the course of 6 months just to give it to Wesley. Should've seen his reaction; the boy literally dropped to his knees crying all the while being held by Dips. It'd been my bestfriend's childhood dream to own his own parlor.

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"Just sign here and the apartment is yours.", smiles a realtor lady

My stomach was flipping over and over. Noah and I were finally buying our first ever home…together. We were entering the life of living together as a couple. We was young but in love and that's all that mattered…nothing else.

Couple of people told us snarkily that it was foolish but we didn't care. Even my dad and uncle disagreed BUT I'm in love.

"Here are the keys, best of luck, kids.", says the realtor as she walks out the door, closing it behind her

Noah excitedly spins me around the room until we bump into the wall next to the door. One thing leads to another and we end up having sex against it.

Our luck hits when people knock on our door, "Anybody there?", yells a woman and Noah curses under his breath.

In a matter of seconds, we have our clothes on—ruffled but on—and I open the door trying not to look or sound as breathless. With a wide smile I greet our new neighbors, an elderly latino couple.

The first words out of the elderly woman's mouth are, "Ay, it smells like _sexo _in here!", her husband smirks knowingly and both Noah and I facepalm

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As Noah beat me profusely while calling me an array of colorful names in our apartment, I begin to wonder if this is really what I had signed for. We'd been living together for some time and in the meantime my life had crumbled. Sure, I was now a tattooist, a relatively well-known one at that, but that was it…nothing else other than waiting on Noah hand and foot had come of my life.

My head swims and I can't feel anything but warm liquid rushing out of my body. Nothing.

Somehow I manage to wake up…I'm moving but not with my feet. Strong arms hold me.

"Marleene…baby you're gonna be okay…", whispers a voice not familiar at all, "No one is ever gonna lay a finger on you…ever. Not over my dead body.", I begin to think it's Wesley but my mind threatens to swim away.

"Thank you so much...",cries a woman…sounding so much like _Mama _Rosa, "Thank you, Phil."

My mind swims.

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Bits and strips of my life pass by in between. Then…they all stop. Nothing. Only darkness and then a sudden brightness

_11 seconds…_


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N- **Short but …yeah, short and to the point?

I'm no doctor.

CHAPTER 39

A sensation I've never felt before consumes me. It's as if I'm being ripped from my body and being dragged. I can't see anything but white and feel frightened and desperate to be released back into my body. Distant voices I can hear and make them out as people I know.

"C'mon, bud…you can't keep doing this to yourself. It isn't healthy, man.", says Colt softly. _COLT? SAVE ME._

"She's gonna wake up… I know it…I-I kno—", it's Phil his voice cuts off as I hear whimpers, "I can't give up on her, Colt. I-I TOLD HER THAT I WOULDN'T LET ANYONE LAY A FINGER ON HER!", he shouts, "I-I failed…so I CAN'T give up on her…I can't.", he whispers. _I'm still alive?_

A soft sight, "Please, bro. The doctors have gone over this…the chances of her coming back are slim. Don't make it harder than it already is, Phil.", _but I can hear you…I'm alive!_

"NO! She made it through a shitload…THIS…this can't be her end…", he sobs, "Stop trying to convince me, Colt. Right here on this damned bed lays THE girl. God or whoever put us in each other's path once more for a reason…SO you can't stand there and tell me to let go…"

I felt the dragging sensation and their conversation becomes fainter and fainter. This is the make or break moment. Who knows where I'm going and if I'll ever come back from there? I can either let myself drift off or struggle to wake up. Moments pass by and their conversation is so far off I can barely make sense of it.

_God, I know I'm the last person to be asking you for any favors because quite frankly, I've done so many fucked up things in my life. Do I regret them? Some I do…some I don't. There are a couple of things I've done for the good of my loved ones. Now, I don't have much time so…PLEASE, if you're hearing my please and cries…please…grant me another chance at life. I-I have so much to live for—to many people who I'd like to think need me. Perfect won't describe my way of life, ever but I'll try this time…try to be a better person. So, please…please…I need to live, I need to see Phil at least once more and tell him…te-tell him how I feel…THAT I'M SORRY…I needa hug my nephew, my dad, my sis, my uncle one last time…I needa see the smiles of those whom I love…pity me? I'll do anything…please._

I don't feel anything anymore…Nothing. No voices, no dragging…_This is it._

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"Phil…dude…is it me or is she cry-crying?"

"I-I uh…Her heart monitor is beep-beeping…CALL THE DOCTOR COLT!"

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"Guys, I'm afraid I have to tell you to step back."

"NO! SHE'S MY-MY…NO—"

"Phil…if you don't let them do their job she's gonna die on us!"

"PUSH 20 of epi and give me the panels!"

"Pushing 20 of epi…"

Metal slides together, "Charge to 200 and stand back."

"Charging to 200."

"MARLEENE, BABY, YOU GOTTA TRY…FOR ME…FOR MICK FO-FOR…MARLEENE!"

"Sir, please stand back!"

"Phil…do c'mon!"

"She's not coming up…charge to 300"

"Charging to 300."

"She comin' around Dr.?"

"People clear the room…please."

"Bu—"

"Clear out…Boys, I'm sorry to say this but…"

My body rejoins my soul faster than a blink of an eye. My eyes shoot straight open and I'm struggling to breathe through all the tubes I feel down my throat. Tears rim my eyes. I'm terrified at the thought of dying like this…dying trying to live. Dying after having begged and pleaded for my life which I took so little care of. My body trembles uncontrollably and I feel a needle stabbed right through by chest deflating a lung or something filled with air.

Hands quickly remove at tubes from my throat and a mouth barks orders for staff to come in.

_Thank you, big man… I owe you._


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N- **Ah…I don't know how I feel about his chapter…Tell me?

CHAPTER 40

A gust of air surges through my body causing me to breathe heavily and rapidly. My eyes shoot open and look blurrily about the room. Blinking a couple of times, my vision clears up and I notice that I'm in the hospital. _What the fuck? _I try to move my arms but they don't respond. I try my legs and neither do they. My breath accelerates with sudden fear. _How'd I get here? WHY CAN'T I MOVE?_

Racking through my brain for the faintest of memories, I only come up with seeing Dominick's worried face and having heard shots…and then nothing. _Is he okay? Where is he? I GOTTA GET UP! _Attempting to move once more, I only feel pain and soreness. _I'm paralyzed. _Closing my eyes to get my memory going nothing pops up only a short vignette of hearing voices in the distance and seeing nothing but brightness.

Frustrated, I damn near cry. I breathe furiously and will myself not to cry. Being here, in the hospital, on this bed not knowing how in the world I got here or not remembering anything in between frustrates me. All of this leads to me letting out a deep groan. My lack of senses and judgment forgot to notice the person previously sleeping at the side of my bed.

With a yawn, the man wakes up…slowly opening those eyelids revealing the only pair of eyes I deem unforgettable. _Yes, this man…he's Phil._ Quietly I observe the simple beauty of him waking up. Honestly, whatever he does, I find it beautiful. Kinda weird since I'm describing a man, one who's so sarcastic you can never quite tell if he's fucking around or not.

Alas, he's fully awake. It takes him a second or two to realize that I, too, am awake. At first he just stares at me awestruck, then as if testing reality he wipes his eyes, and finally he literally starts crying while smiling, caressing my face lovingly. _C'mon, body, work with me! _Lifting an aching, trembling hand, I lightly wipe away his tears wondering the reason behind them. A soft smile on my lips and tears in my eyes appear as he takes hold of my hand and kisses my fingers taking in the feel, "Is this real?", he asks in pitch no higher than a whisper

Opening my mouth, I attempt to formulate words but nothing comes out. Another attempt, "W-what…is?", the question comes out in a croak

Phil gazes at me with surprise. _There something wrong with me? _"Y-y-you're really awake…I'm not dreaming…"

Just as I'm about to speak, or at least try, the door opens. In comes Colt with a tray of food and by the looks of it…Phil needs that shit, urgently. It hits me that these two men seem to be living zombies. Both of them look as if they haven't slept in days or haven't really done anything to look presentable—they're wearing pajama pants and band t-shirts. _They were wearing formalwear last time I saw 'em…?_

Going back, Colt opens his mouth to say something to Punk but instead he leaves it hanging open…he stares at me as if he's just seen a ghost. With a loud clash, the tray of food makes contact with the ground, smearing it like paint. Scott, my dear friend, strides over and falls to his knees, next to Punk, and observes. He pokes me and I wince—_I'm not a dead animal, idiot. _Scott clears this as a passed test and hugs me, knocking the wind outta my poor lungs.

I whimper, tears release themselves without my consent. I cry…cry because of this simple form of affection. Cry because the pain, although I don't give a fuck, is excruciating. Cry because I'm alive and feel it. Cry because I don't remember, and because I s'pose I was close to death due to their reactions.

"Colt, you're hurting her…get off.", demands Phil worriedly

Like a bug to repellent, Scott gets off, "S-sorry.", takes me a moment that he, too, cries. _Real men cry, see._

"Where does it hurt, ba—Marleene?", asks Phil with great concern. _I was such a bitch to you, why do you so much_, I move my head side to side, "Mar, you forget that I know you…where does it hurt?", he asks sternly. _Stubborn as always. _Again, I shake my head. He frowns, "Fine, I guess we'll just bring in the doctor. Colt push the button."

Reluctantly, Colt pushes a button on one of the sides of my bed. In a matter of minutes a nurse arrives and doesn't even ask what's wrong. Woman just stares at me with a sort of relieved smile? She tells the boys that she'll have a certain Dr. Elmer come in. _Why do I always get MALE doctors?_

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After Dr. Elmer, a quite young adorable man, checks my vitals and all that good shit, he recommends I stay under observation another 2 days. _Another?_

Clearing my throat, "Doc, for how long have I been out cold?", my voice sounds like that of a heavy smoker which doesn't please me

Dr. Elmer gazes in the boys' general direction before clearing his own throat, "Not counting today… 15 days."

_PREPOSTEROUS! _With a look of disbelief, "No…NO!", my breath quickens, "What happened? Why so long?"

"You received 3 shot wounds to the upper-back and one through the skull…you're lucky that you only ended up unconscious and not dead."

_No wonder I feel so shitty. _"Is Dominick okay?", flashbacks flood my mind. I realize that not only did I jump the bullet for my nephew but for my bestfriend too…I can recall hearing Micks struggle and the crazed look in Noah's eye, "W-where's Noah…is Wes okay? How 'bout Micks—DIPS…where are they?", my throat runs dry as I begin to notice a change in demeanor in both Colt and Phil. I hear a monitor start beeping rapidly…almost as fast as my breath.

"Marleene, listen to me…you need to calm down…your blood pressure is too high…breathe.", tries to coax the young doctor but I don't pay attention. I'm too desperate to know the fate of my loved ones

Warm, calloused hands cup my face gently. In my face is Phil, his eyes shining with worry, "Dollface, you gotta calm down...", my breathing is still quick and short; I feel as though I'm drowning, "Listen, if-if you calm down…I'll tell ya'…", that doesn't cut it for me. My vision begins to cloud over, "Dollface? Dollface, please…they're okay. THEY'RE OKAY…", _that's what I wanna hear. _Even though Phil probably lies, the look etched on his face makes me calm down. Doc puts some type of mask on me and seconds later I realize it's a type of sleeping gas. I knock out cold again.

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Next time I blinked open my eyes, I woke up to a room full of the people. Grogginess flew away as soon as Dominick hopped on my bed and hugged me as tight as he possibly could. His tiny, puny body trembled violently with quiet sobs.

"Aw, _papi_…_no llores_…I'm fine.", this did nothing to soothe him, "Baby, I'm fine, really.", I reassure him, patting him lightly

A couple more sobs and the kid finally looks up at me, red-eyed and all, "I-I-I thought that…you was d-dead…Auntie…", he made a face as though he was about to tear up again, "I-I love you so much!", he rams into me and I let out a groan but hug him as if my life depended on it

"I love you too, sweetie.", I whisper. I look around the room and acknowledge just how many people are in here. For one, Phil sits right next to my bed with Colt splayed on the floor, leaning on Phil's chair. On the couch, Randy holds his daughter and chats softly with her mother and Dave. Maria leans against a wall by her lonesome self just staring at Phil and sneaking peaks at her other lover. Jee, and Carlos talk amongst themselves, while Bree stands with them staring cockily at Randy. All seem to be restless, to say the least. _Where's McKenzie, Dips, and Wes?_

A phone rings which scares me half to death…it's Randy's. He gently scoops up his sleeping child and places her on over her mother's knees and excuses himself. Dave follows along only stopping to half-acknowledge his lover.

Carlos is the first to realize that I'm conscious and walks over with his little crew in tow. Phil and him nod at each other and Phil, along with Scott, remove themselves from my side. Carlos takes his place on the chair with Bree sitting on the armrest and Jee sits at the foot of my bed. Surprisingly Bree is the first to speak up, "Buttercup, you're awake…how you feeling?"

I try to readjust myself but fail only wincing, "I've had better days…"

She smiles sadly, "Haven't we all? I was honestly scared that I wouldn't have somebody to fuck around with at the parlor anymore."

Carlos glares at her for a moment, "Man, I dunno how you do it, babygirl. From being beat to gettin' shanked to shot at…quite a record. You a strong woman.", he rubs my hand, "Much respect, kid. Had me worried for minute, though.", he breathes deeply, "That cuntbag got lucky that he got off easy…the easy way out…", he broods

"What you mean?"

"Mar, girl, you a strong woman…as soon as you can we needa hit the bong or something…I'll supply.", speaks up Jee. _What'd Carlos mean?_, "But we-we gotta head out…important business to pac—I mean, deal with.", he motions for Bree and Carlos to follow, "I'll see you…get stronger, chica.", one-by-one they all hug me, Bree lingering a bit with tears ready to flow. _That was awkward_

As the last of the tattoo co-workers leaves, Randy enters along with Dave. The WWE wrestlers have noticeably let their stubble grow but still they look attractive as ever. Randy sits down on the chair but still towers over me. Dave walks out with a displeased looking Maria. _Figures…_, "How you feeling, sweetheart?", asks Randy

"Like hell…", I answer honestly, "I guess those people on T.V weren't overacting…", I say trying to lift the thick air.

RKO chuckles and shakes his head, "You think?", he licks his lips, "When I heard what had happened I literally was ready to explode. That was fucking unbelievable. Y'know, I've spent so much time in this hospital…I can actually call it a home.", he states chuckling

"I'm sorry…but that was me trying to be Superwoman.", I tell him

"Well, Superwoman you are…that was amazing. You have balls…big ones.", he says with a playful smirk

"If I could lift my arms without feeling like I'm on fire..."

He lifts his hands defensively, "Calm down, tigress.", he takes something out of his pocket…a phone, "Here, yours got crushed and yeah…Merry Christmas and Happy New Years."

I stare at him as if he's gone loony, "You shouldn't have."

"I did…take it.", he puts in my hand, "I'd like to stay and chat but…Vince called up and well…I got a show to catch in 72 hours.", he looks over to his daughter and babymomma, "It's gonna be hard leaving those two…especially you, my friend."

Smiling slightly, "Don't worry about me… I got your number.", looking in his family's direction, "You could always invite Sam to live with you…as a live-in babymomma. That way you'd see the kiddo more often."

He ponders for about a minute, "I'll see what's up. I can't thank you enough though. Thanks…I think that was one of the most proudest moments in my life…next to banging Patricia Stratigias.", he says with a sexy smirk

I choke on my spit, "You're disgusting.", I laugh, "Well, I'll see you?"

"You can count on that…I'll keep in touch—perhaps we'll catch some fish and chips in Australia…never know with the Viper.", he says winking

Laughing, "Oh boy…I'll miss you, stud."

He envelops me in a tight embrace, "I know.", I gasp, "I'll miss you too. Recover quick and I'm sorry about how things had to go down…just know that things can't be all controlled.", he kisses my forehead and steps away. _Wait…what?_ He passes by Phil and I'm ready for a reenactment of SmackDown but all they do is whisper a few words and shake hands. _Is this a truce? _Maria comes back in teary-eyed and says nothing when Punk asks her what's wrong. Randy with Addie in arms and Sam walk out waving good-bye.

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It's just Punk, Maria, Colt, and me…tension is high. Scott makes his way over and announces to anybody in general that he'll be back. With that news, he grabs Maria by the wrist and forcefully drags her out the door. Once the door clicks close, I stare at Phil…he avoids my eyes knowing that I'm about to pour in questions.

"Where's Micks and Wes…they should be here…they're my bestfriends.", I ask him

Noticeably, he tenses up and runs a tattooed hand through his hair. He sits on my bed and just stares at me. Sadness fills those lush olive-greens…or fills them even more. His mouth opens but nothing comes out of it. The indie-wrestler grabs one of my hands and looks me deeply in the eyes but yet refuses to say a word

_Something's wrong. _My brows furrow together, "Phil…Where. Are. Wesley and Micks?", anticipation and desperation courses through my whole body as I just lay here with the man I feel so strongly for, "WHERE ARE THEY!", I launch myself at him ignoring the pain. His eyes tell it all. No words needed they say the shit that can't be said with word of mouth. I shake him, or at least try to, asking over and over for my two life-long friends…brother and sister.

Tiring myself out, I rest my head against his shoulder, sobbing, "Just tell me, Phil…pity me."

Strong arms engulf me, hugging me to his body tightly as if I'd disappear should he do so lightly, "Doll…I-I'm so fucking so-sorry…", his voice shakes, HE shakes, "Wes—Wes he's go—"

The Hulk in me is unleashed and I fight him off. Hitting him. Shaking him. Screaming, yelling, shrieking…anything to express my pain…inner pain. Pain of the heart.

When all is said and done…I realize that no matter how much I cry, how much I yell, how much I plead…my bestfriend, Wesley Efrain Mendes won't come back to life. _Nope. Not in this life, not ever._

"He's on life support…", whispers Phil. He doesn't budge, doesn't move—salty tears stream down his…I am not the only one who has lost a friend, a brother.

"Phil...hold me.", I whisper and he, without so much a question, does. _Don't ever let go…I'm falling through._


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N- **I feel accomplished!

Read, review, follow?

CHAPTER 41

Coffee. That's what he smells of, coffee. This is what has been occupying my mind for the past…for however long we've been holding each other. Honestly, his scent of coffee soothes me; lets me know that however much I'm regretting—I'm alive and Wes…is not.

If Wesley were alive, these tattooed arms would be replaced by his. I'd be feeling the steady heartbeat of a man, who for so long, took care of me when, said tattooed arms, left. Perhaps the minty breath traveling my way wouldn't be minty…it'd be the smell of an ashtray. More likely than not, this intimate moment between two exes brought together by tragedy wouldn't even exist. IF Wesley were alive.

Now that I think of it, Wesley CAN'T be dead. No, he's probably the strongest person I know. We're talking about the dude who'd lug me around as if I were featherweight, one who could single-handedly fend off a couple of grown men, one who was on the wrestling team during highschool…we're talking about a dude who's invincible. _Trying to convince yourself, aren't you?_

"Phil? Phi—OH, um…", speaks a soft girly voice from the door. Phil tenses up, squeezes me a bit, wipes his tears, and then gently lets me go.

"Uh, yeah…what's up, Maria?", he says trying to play off as calm and collected

"Sorry…", mumbles his girlfriend, "It's urgent…um…wanna step outside?", she looks at me looking at them, "It's about…uh…Wesley.", she stutter with her gaze downcast

_He's alive…he woke up—like me! _"Did he wake up?", asks Phil hopefully, _of course he did…it's Wesley_

Maria with her big ol' owl eyes, raises her head with a small smile—the kind that lets you know it won't be something good, "H-his dad has decided t-to unplug him, baby.", she grabs onto Phil as he falls to his knees in a weeping heap. She hugs him as he shamelessly sobs.

_Dad? DAD? Wesley has no pops…BITCH LYING—Wes is ALIVE how the fuck…? _"LYING BITCH!", I yell furiously across the room. Maria instantly looks up, "I know what you're doing…I'm on to you, you fucking heartless bitch!", she stares at me with a mix of fear and confusion, "You're one sick, sick cunt. Trying to pull one on me…Using my loved ones—No, no, no…that's too far!", I try to slide off the bed but my legs wobble under me. Like the good Samaritan she pretends to be, she abandons Phil and tries to steady me, "GET AWAY!", I shout trying to push her away

Between struggles, "Mar-Mar…Marleene!", she slaps me and that makes me come undone. I fall in her arms, the arms of the woman I SHOULD hate, "I'm so sorry…so, so sorry.", she tells me as I cry into her shoulder.

In my futile attempt to keep in denial, "He's alive—if-if I woke up…HE WILL TOO!", I removed my face from her shoulder and looked into those owl eyes, "Right?", all the woman could do was wipe away my tears and hug me. Her sincerity seemed and felt so real—it made it hard to even try to hate her, "He doesn't have an old man—just him, an-and Elvira…", I mumble

Phil picks himself up off the floor, "Where's Colt?", he asks not even bothering to turn around

Maria helps me sit down on the chair near my bed, "He's um…with Micks."

_Where is she? SHOULDN'T SHE BE WITH OUR BESTFRIEND?_ "WHY ISN'T SHE WITH WESLEY!". I yell in pure fucking anger that in his time of need Micks can't even stick around

Pushing past his girlfriend, Punk grabs both my hands, "Later. One thing at a time, doll, one thing at a time.", his words sound so…so cryptic? _My god…SHE'S DEAD TOO. _I begin to cry. Thinking that everybody I love is leaving me. _They said they'd be there for me whenever, whenever, for whatever. _Arms envelope me letting me know that I am not yet alone, not in this room, not with this same pain.

Coffee he smells of. The smell so enticing, hypnotizing so much, that I almost don't hear little sniffles of the woman hurrying out the door of my room. Almost.

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As Phil wheels me off corridor through corridor, my mushy mind flies off into the depths of my memory.

*flashback*

(February 14th, 1998)

_About a quarter to 1p.m and here we are at Ramses little crash pad. Nothing more than a singles apartment with the basics, a t.v, Nintendo, beat-up couch, and 2 highschool kids—Wes and me. According to Illinois law, we should be in class…learning and the like—FUCK THAT._

_Today, isn't JUST Valentine's Day…no, sadly. It's an exact year since Punk and I first started dating. Being that he still lingers around my mind…school wasn't a great idea. Couples all around would be cheesing it to the max with their 'aw babe you should have's' and fucking teddy bears with cheap chocolates and I'd be on the outside looking in. _

"_Call me an ass but its been like a year, Marley…you should be over that bridge", says Wesley pausing his videogame_

_Taking another gulp of my Budlight, "You should be over Micks…"_

_He frowns, "Our shit lasted longer."_

"_Time is nothing…Punk he-he made me feel alive. We got each other so well. I-I just don't wanna explain…", I close my eyes to keep from spilling useless tears_

_Wesley probably sees that he's hit a softie so he turns of the system and holds me tight…like he always does, "Sis…you dunno how much it hurts to see you like this."_

"_Like how?"_

"_You don't do shit anymore other than hit up peeps to drink with or get on some trees with. Ya' don' ever get dressed like you used to.", he rolls up the sleeves of my shirt, "These multiply like rabbits."_

_I pull in my arm and cover it, "Don't you judge me or anything. I've been through much in so little time. This is MY way of coping with his leave and my guilt of letting Fannie die…MAY NOT BE THE RIGHT WAY OR THE BEST—but I-I can't find any other way out.", I jump up knocking over a couple beer bottles and make my way over to the door where my shoes are located. The frustration I feel of not being able to put on my shoes makes me drop to the floor, crying._

_Chucking those damn shoes at the wall, I curse them out. I kick and scream, letting out emotions I've tried so hard to contain, to hold in. Ever since I found Fannie's lifeless body that damned day, my life had gone downhill. My father still refused to acknowledge me, Caro still didn't open her mouth to speak, and Punk—he was a lost case. No point in waiting for him anymore. Mike wasn't in my life anymore and THAT made me feel ever more alone. Sure, he only wanted my "goods" but in some fucked up way that made me feel complete. The people around me constantly changed, except for my bestfriends Micks and Wes. Still, they didn't fill the emptiness and pointless space in my life. _

"_Here.", a cold beer is put in front of me, "Take it.", I do_

_Beside me, Wesley slides down until he's in a sitting position with his arm around me. He isn't one for words but actions. In this moment, all I need is his company and a beer…or four, "I see her, I see Fannie almost every night…always in a nightmare. She calls to me asking why I let'er die. With blood all over her she asks why-why I didn't save her.", I start to play with my nails, "It should've been ME! I should've died…nobody would really hurt over it.", I whisper, "Sometimes when I'm alone in my room, I look over to check if she's sound asleep—she never comes home. Then I realize that she NEVER WILL. Those are the times when I go about the kitchen looking for anything that'll kill me instantly, but I never go through…Never, Wes."_

_Something about the dude beside me: you can rant your heart out and he'll listen. For however long it runs. He's a listener, "Maybe it should've been you, maybe the girl next door…or maybe just maybe the big man above chose ol' Fan for a reason.", he removes his arm from around me and takes off his cap, "Look, nugget, I'm not gon' try to convince you to do shit. If you feel like this livin' deal is too much…do what you gotta do. Okay? Just be sure because sometimes shit don't go the way we plan it to. Leave with no regrets and sure I'll be fuckin' broken, along with other people who love you, but I'll understand.", his clears his cracking voice, "Jus' know that…Look, I never had much to begin with. Jus' me and moms—no pops, fam. Then, you and your fam came around—losing you would be like losing a part of me. I ain't never had the need to save somebody 'till I met you all those years ago, but if it's what you decide—do it, I won't hold you back.", tears drip down his cheeks, "Just…know that the day your life comes to end, mine will too—not all of it, but for the most part—you're my baby sister, my bestfriend. I love you, if you dunno it yet."_

_His words hit me straight in the heart; his tears burn it. Wesley Efrain Mendes was never one for life changing speeches…but, this-this is one of those moments I'll forever treasure. Wesley Efrain Mendes was NEVER one to cry. Today, I have been saved. Today, our vow to be bestfriends 'till death do us part has been renewed._

"_You mean the world to me too, Wesley. You are the brother I never was blessed to have. I promise you to keep on living, to keep fighting, to keep on going…if you promise the same, because I-I can't have another person walk out on me—especially you."_

_He holds my hand, "You already know the answer: Bestfriends, we stick together till the day I drop 6ft under—which'll probs be in anotha' 60 yrs. No worries."_

*end of flashback*

Wheelchair comes to a stop and a door opens. Everything seems so surreal and yet so normal. Punk helps me off the chair and leads me towards what looks like a sleeping Wesley. Eduardo Juarez, aka Double Dips, sits at his side completely non-moving. Elvira sits next to Dips, hugging her only baby with eyes wide open focusing on nothing.

Doesn't even feel like Wesley is a veggie. I run a finger down his cheek and it's as warm as ever. _He's asleep, "_Wesley, wake up.", I whisper over and over…_he's a heavy sleeper_, "C'mon Wes, you gotta wake up.", I say with more desperation. Still nothing—not even a twitch or reaction, "WESLEY EFRAIN, GET UP!", I shake him becoming angry with each shake.

Phil grabs both my arms and whispers in my ear, "Please…don't make it harder…"

I stare at him incredulously, "He's just asleep!"

Phil hold my face in his hands and shakes his head slowly, "No, sweetheart…He's gone."

I push him away. Maybe in my room I tried convincing myself to the fact but being here, next to my lifelong friend, killed it. How could it be that he was a vegetable…for Christ's sake, he's sleeping soundly. He has a heartbeat and is warm.

"My son…my son, he's gone—_un vegetal, nomas._", says Dips monotonously

I furrow my brows in disbelief, "He's not dead and he's not your son…he has no father!"

"He is. He is my illegitimate child.", Dips holds Wesley's hand, "And he-he didn't even get the chance to forgive me…t-to call me _papa _or _Viejo_.", a new side is revealed to Dips…sobs rack his body as he clings onto his…his son for dear life, "_POR QUE_?", he shouts, "The one good thing that I ever created…and he's gone in the blink of an eye…WHY?", tears appear in Elvira's eyes, "He was just becoming a man…STARTING TO LIVE! _Lo pude salvar! _Had I been faster…he'd be alive enjoying his life…I'M OLD I'VE HAD ENOUGH TIME ON THIS DAMNED EARTH, _DIOS!"So you've been the boy's father all along…explains all those gifts and hints of affection. _Seeing Dips: a cartel, pimp, business man break down like that makes Wesley being dead all the more real.

"Ho-how long has he been like this…tell me truth.", I ask Punk

"13 days."

I cover my mouth, I could've caught him alive and active had I not been in a coma, "Why…why is he like this…on lifesupport?"

"He's in a coma and can't breathe on his own, doll. They took him in for surgery to remove the bullets he took and well…um…", Phil didn't go on, he didn't need to.

"But he can still come back, right?", I ask with sudden hope

With tears in his eyes, Phil looks at me, "30 percent chance…close to nothing."

I latch onto my bestfriend, brother, "WAKE UP! YOU HAVE TO WAKE UP!", I yell. I grab his face between my two trembling hands, "Bro you need to wake up! You promised…YOU PROMISED!", no use. I sob hysterically in to his chest.

Elvira snaps out of her trance and places a note just near my head, "_Para ti, muchacha…lo escribio antes que se-se-se fuera…_", she bites her lips to keep from crying. Elvira then caresses her babyboy's cheek and pecks him on the forehead. Reciting a prayer for him, "_Ya me tengo que ir, mijo…no sabes cuanta falta me vas hacer…_", before any tears fall she waltzes out the room with her head held up high, lightly touching Dips's shoulder. _Strong woman._

Taking the note, I hold it close to my heart and do what any other person would do, pray and cry.

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Around 10p.m, Dr. Elmer comes through. In his hands, Wesley's death sentence; the papers that will cut off the machine that breathes for the dude. Eduardo holds the clipboard in shaky hands and as he readies himself to sign it I hold onto Phil because I cannot, I refuse to give up hope on Wesley. Scribbles on paper rings in my ear.

"Just tell me when you're ready.", says Dr. Elmer void of any emotion. He just steps aside.

Wesley's father is the first to say goodbye. The man grabs his boy's hand, "Tengo tantos arrepentimientos, hijo—pero no verte salvado es uno de los mas grandes. No verte dicho que yo soy el hombre que te engendro mas pronto es el segundo. P-pero, ni por un segundo pienses que no te quise…tu eres el mejor hijo que Dios me regalo. Discúlpame por no ver guiado te durante eso tiempos en cuando mas necesitabas un padre. Tu madre nunca quiso que supieras que tu padre era un desgraciado, malviviente. Discúlpame, hijo…Algún día nos volveremos a ver y entonces…entonces…", Dips's sobs overtake him and he doesn't continue. He gives his son's hand another squeeze and lets go.

Next goes Phil. He untangles himself from me and gets on his knees and bows his head atop Wes's hand, "Where do I start? Do I ask why God had to take you away or why your crazy ass had to step in a be fuckin' Superman? I dunno how I'll ever let you go, dude. As teens we did some pretty fucked up shit and now…I always envisioned us getting together as old, senile bastards at a retirement home or at the donut place I always told you I wanted to open up after my wrestling gig was over. I thank God or whoever put you in my way, for all the moments we spent. I regret not having spent time catching up with you, my dude…but, that's the way life is—crashes our paths without warning. As for what you made me promise…I'll go through, you can rest assured.", Phil breathes in deeply, "I'll never forget you, no matter how many hits and kicks I receive. I'll miss you, but 'till we meet again, you can be Daddy…", Phil half chuckles, half cries at the old insider, "Save a spot for me up there, brotha' from anotha' motha'.", wiping his eyes he steps back

It's my turn and my feet feel as though they'll give out under me any second. I'm already crying as I sit next to Wes and hold his hands tightly, "Hey brother…I-I won't make a long speech be-because I know you're desperate to reach the other side of _el coral_. I just want to thank you for all the times you were there to pick me up and take care of me…all the times we spent together getting fucked up. EVERYTHING. You are the one person who I could turn to for everything. I-I'm sorry you had to go out like this be-because of me…You didn't deserve this end and I-I'm so sorry…", I bow my head, "All those promises and dreams…I'll try to fulfill them, for you. You deserve it. Now, rest up—'cus once I make it up there…shit's gonna get crazy…Alright…this isn't a goodbye, never. More like a 'I'll see you late'…say hello to my sis…", I kiss the man and fly into Phil's arm before I can have time to block the doctor from reaching the cords or machinery.

Dr. Elmer goes through the procedure and slowly, ever so slowly, Wesley's heartbeat flatlines. I can't even look. All I can do to block out the sounds around me is hide in Phil's arms. And breathe in his scent.

Coffee. That's what he smells of, coffee.


	41. Chapter 41

**A/N- **I've got a good feeling, but I don't know. Hehehe.

Leave a review…Read most importantly…follow, maybe?

CHAPTER 42

_Dear Chaparra,_

_You're reading this which means that I am no longer. For that, I'm sorry but I'll have you know that I went into this ready to fight. Docs told me that I had minimum chance of survival but it was now or never. Death doesn't scare me, never. Just the fact that I'm leaving behind people who depend on me…people like you, lil' sis. I wrote this letter in hopes of making your closure come faster and void you of any pain, but I know that's impossible. So, doll, cry for me but not for long. We'll see each other in the next life. Be sad, cry if you have to—but try like hell to move on. You're young as hell still and wasting life on the dead…no. _

'_Fore I went in, I told Phil of the shit that went down in the years in between. You're still in love with him and he's with you. He's a good guy. I'm kinda satisfied that I will be leaving you in the arms of someone worthy of you. Stop pushing him away…stop. When you get around to fucking, please…PLEASE use those rubbers. Stay away from Colt's creepy ass…I'm laughing as I say this—HE IS WHIPPED on that Darcy chick. Only thing is, I feel bad for Maria…since you've been out cold, all Punk does is sit and wait on you to come around. With that Batista dude gone, Maria is left lonely. Get the girl a man._

_Should've taken your word on Luz…that cunt bitch. I'm not gonna hold a grudge…not going to die like that. Only thing I regret is not having whooped Noah's bastard self. Getting locked up isn't enough._

_Tell my jefa to keep strong and keep her head up. She hates you now even more than…ever. Don't let that get you down though; I did what I did because I wanted to. If I had another chance to do things over…I'd dive in for your shots. Anyway, tell moms that I love her from wherever I am to the end of infinity. Tell my…my father that I forgive him. I'm not going into this surgery with regrets and shit. So, yeah…tell Dips that I-I love him for all he's done for me. Tell him that to please keep InkBlot in business…in my honor. _

_Now, if I deserve anything outta this lifelong friendship…I'd like to ask for a favor. It's simple. Tell Micks that I love her, HAVE loved her…ALWAYS will be in love with her. Tell'er that I went out like a brave motha'fucka'. Tell her to remember me…and to tell our daughter how much I wanted to be there for her. How fuckin' excited I was to have her…if Micks won't, tell her yourself…tell her how badass her daddy was. It saddens me that due to my princess being an at risk preemie…I won't ever get to meet her now._

_I'm done. I wish I had a couple hundred pages and all the time in the world but my head pulsates with every word. This isn't a goodbye…never. This is a…I'll be seeing you when you get to wherever I am, Marleene. I love you so fuckin' much. I love all of the people in my life…thank you for having impacted my life in sucha beautiful, crazy way. 'Till then…_

_Forever yours,_

_Wesley Efrain Mendes_

_(P.S- I wrote in proper grammar just for you,)_

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Re-read this letter about 10 times; cried every damn time. My brain couldn't…REFUSED to wrap itself around the fact that he's gone. He was prepared and the saddest thing was that he didn't fear death itself but what'd become of his loved ones. As for Micks's and him having a love child…it was truly unbelievable and sad. On my way back to my own room, I fainted.

Punk sits on my bed stuck in deep thought. It's almost 2 in the morning and sleep doesn't take me. I feel like sleep and I will be enemies from now 'till eternity.

"Phil…"

"Huh?"

"Take me to see the baby."

"How'd you know 'bout—"

"Wes's letter. Take me or I'll walk there…wherever it might be."

As we stand outside the nursery, Punk holds my hand. A blonde nurse passes by and he stops her, "Excuse me, miss. Are we allowed to enter the nursery?", he asks in a relatively kind tone…I guess he's too exhausted to try and be himself, a sarcastic asshole

"You the parents of one of these children?", she asks in a rather snarky tone while chomping ferociously on a stick of gum

"Um…no."

"Then there's you answer.", she starts walking off but Phil's engine is turned and he holds her back, "What's your problem?"

"MY PROBLEM?", he practically yells, "MY PROBLEM is you and your attitude. I've just lost a friend…a brother and I'm s'posed to deal with you, Blondie? That friend happens to be the father of one those bundles of joy! We'd at least like to see his little girl…his heir. Because that's all that's left of him—his baby.", Phil is livid, so livid he looks as though he's about to shank the woman

"Phil, please…calm down.", I urge him

Nurse lady stares at me, "No…let him go on.", she looks at Phil, "Tonight alone we lost 4 babies and 2 mothers. 2 babies will be motherless and will have to go into a foster home because their momma was their only relative. 3 mommies will have to go home empty-handed wondering what they did wrong to deserve this mishap. 1 mommy had to be admitted into the Psych Floor", she clicks her tongue, "You're not the only one, buddy.", she goes over to the nursery door and picks up a clipboard, "What's the baby's name?"

"She has no name…", responds a taken aback Punk

"What do you mean she has no name?", I ask confusedly…Micks had already picked out a name

"Uh…that's no—"

"No name…born 12 days ago?", asks the nurse interrupting Phil midsentence

"Yeah, she's a 34-wk-old preemie."

Nurse frowns sympathetically, "Okay, here's what I'll do. You guys get in those yellow scrub things and I'll allow you to be in with her for 30 mins, okay?"

We both nod and proceed to wash off and get into the yellow scrub shits. Once fully geared up, the nurse takes us into a room with about 8 preemies in incubators. She directs us to the 6th baby. Baby No-name. She instructs us not to pick her as she is not yet ready to be living on the outside world. With that info she leaves us with the nurse on duty.

First thing I notice about the nameless baby is the minuscule beauty mark on her right cheek…like her mother. Baby has her daddy's nose and ears…this brings tears to my eyes. Her hair is dark brown like Wesley's. Nervously, I put my hand in to touch her. When she moves slightly, I quickly pull out. Punk leaves my side for a minute and then returns with a rocking chair. He motions for me to sit and I refuse. So, he takes it up himself to sit down with me on his lap.

"Phil what are you doing?"

"I don't want to be difficult today…just relax, you still can't be on your feet for long."

"Thanks I guess...Phil?"

"Yes, beautiful?"

"Why doesn't she have a name?"

Phil tenses up, "Micks didn't even wanna hear her tiny cry after she was born…much less name her or look at her."

I don't reply. My attention returns to Micks and Wes's love child. The creature looks so small and defenseless…so innocent, not yet ruined by the impurity of the world. Not yet exposed to the cruelty of reality and unfairness of life. I gain the courage to stroke her once more and this time when she moves I don't remove my hand.

"Hey babygirl…you may not know this but I'm your Aunt Marleene. I've been waiting for you since the day I first found out you were in your mommy's tummy, little one. You're so beautiful…like your mommy. Not even you da-daddy's features make you ugly…Believe me, he was one crazy fucker…", just bringing up this child's father soured my mood, "He told me to tell you how much he wishes he could be here with you, babygirl…he love-loves you so much…", it's in this moment that I pull away and bawl for the 50 billionth time today.

Punk slowly rocks the chair to and fro. He holds me like an infant and tries to soothe me as best as he can. We both hurt but he is far stronger than I. Being in his arms like this makes me feel so tiny, so puny. When my mini tearfest subsides, I look up from the crook of his neck and stare silently into those gorgeous eyes. His fingers wipe away the remainder of my tears.

"Why do you insist of taking care of me?", I ask in a breath of a whisper

"Because I promised Wes…and because I'm in love with you—that's what we fools in love do.", he whispers honestly

I close my eyes, "Don't say that…", I whisper

"Look at me…", I open my eyes slightly, "I meant what I said…I'm in love with you.", a few moments of pure silence pass by and his face leans into mine…trying to catch a taste of my lips.

I turn and he pecks my cheek, "I can't do this right now, Phil…I-I'm so sorry.", with that I get up as fast as my balance lets me but he catches me, "Phil let go…"

"Could you just…?", he walks over to his new niece and gently touches her, "I'll be back, little girl. Don't worry, it's a fuckin' playground. You got Rick on the left and Anthony to the right…you won't be alone, I promise. Just don't let'em look at you the wrong way, y'hear young lady?", he caresses her tiny cheek and turns around to face me. Not even a word, he grabs my hand and forcefully takes me out of the room.

"Have you gone crazy? What the hell…let go!", I shriek

The wrestler stops abruptly, "I've lost one of my loved ones…I get to be cynical if I want. On top of that, you and your…", he doesn't finish just keeps on trudging in no specific direction. We reach a utility closet; he opens it, and pushes me in closing the door shut. _What in the world is going on?_

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Something about the look in his eyes, the way he watches me makes back up until I reach a dead-end. He closes in on me and before I can even think of reaching for the door, he puts both arms on each side of the wall…his body becoming a barrier. Somehow, as abundant as air is…the air in this damned closet is running out on the quicks. I can hear myself breath profoundly, "What are you gonna do to me?", _I hate how I sound so fucking weak!_

"I just want you to hear me out…All I ask for.", he begins

Seeing as to I don't really have any other choice, I nod my head feeling that it's gonna be a long day…or night or whatever it is.

"I'm in love with you, Marleene Karime Soto. Been in love with you since 1998. I can't tell how hard I tried to wash away every aspect of you from my memory since the day I caught you screwing my brother.",

_I know where this is going…_I look at my feet pretending that they're the most interesting items in the world. It's been one hell of an excruciatingly painful day and this I don't need…DESERVE, that I do but don't need, not right now.

Two finger come under my chin and lift it up, "Something in me couldn't bring me to hate you…As much as I wanted—NEEDED to despise you for such a fuckin' low-blow…I-I couldn't. You took over my brain like a tumor or a decease. Women came and left my life…you'd be the one I'd compare them to. Even Maria, so sweet so cute, couldn't take your place—never will, probably. It took me nearly a decade to finally come to terms that I'd never forget you, much less stop loving you.", he caresses my cheek, "That if you miraculously showed up at my doorstep and asked to stay…I wouldn't just slam the door in your face. When I picked you up in my arms that night in your old apartment…and recognized you…it killed me that having left you—you'd met somebody else. Somebody else not worthy—NOT man enough for you. Even though I knew you were out like light, I promised you that I'd never let shit happen to you.", even in this barely lit closet, I can see the tears forming in his eyes, "When I saw you and Wes go down…I-I died. I thought 'Now, I have really lost her…and my brother.'", he pauses to put himself together, "Spending every single moment next to you for 2 wks…waiting, hoping, praying that you could wake up. That you'd wake up and I could tell you how much I love you. How much I regret…how much you mean to me.", he plays with his lip-ring, "Marleene, I would've given heart, my lung, my kidney—ANYTHING, if it'd keep you alive, if it'd bring you back. Cheesy as it sounds. Cheesy, corny, and lost for words is how I am when I find myself talking to you about my feelings"

A single tear I let escape my eyes, "T-then why'd you treat me like a piece of shit? Treat me like nothing but lowly, scummy slut?", I look downward again, this time tears running down my face, "You dunno how horrible I felt after finding out about us and how and why we went so raw and salty. With the most urgency I had to drink, sniff, snort, smoke, cut you away, Phil. In those times I'd been going through so much that after you drove away…I gave up on us. Wesley probably told you. So, to be honest, I don't have a clue in the world how you can love somebody who did you so bogus. Someone who stooped as low as screwing your bro. Cannot fathom why you love me, how you say you do. Can't…", teary-eyed and all, I look up at the 6ft wrestler, "Only thing I can say is…I'm really sorry. So fucking sorry that it had to end in the way it did. Now looking back, I feel terribly stupid in having done that and having given up so quickly—I was but a meager, petulant kid with mommy issues. I'm sorry. I wish I could just—", I stop my rant and laugh without humor wiping my tears. _Nothing's funny when you're crying and giving up your pride._ "It's too late. You're with Maria, all in love and shit…she's lucky. Really lucky. And I-I'm alone…more alone than ever without Wes…", speaking of him just makes me wanna cry endlessly, "So…if you don't mind…Ima just head straight to my roo—"

Just as I start to towards the door, Punk gently slams me up against the wall, hooking his hands under my uncovered knees, and pulling me up—to anyone this'd be looking like a compromising position. This kiss…this kiss, he gives me with a sort of need. His lips slam into mine, trying to ply mine apart. They do—I kiss him back with the same need…desperation almost. My legs tighten around his hips and arms around his neck out of instinct. Even with the force his lips were soft, just as I remembered them. _Soft and warm. _His hands make clumps in my hair, gently pulling it. This drives me up the wall, I kiss fervently. My mind's as good as gone. _Marleene… _My slightly shaky hands travel up to his messy hair loving the feel of it—almost missing how long it has been since they've gone through it like this. _Marleene this is wrong. _Punk's mouth leaves mine and makes its way between nicks and kisses to my neck. _He's STILL taken, Marley. _This alone ignites the flames in my lower abdomen. _Maria. _

A growl brings me back to my senses. My eyes flutter open and it takes a moment to run through what exactly is wrong with this. _Maria, his GIRLFRIEND. _Realizations suck balls, they do. I push, or at least attempt to, him off and get back on my own feet. He stares at me with confusion, "This is wrong, Phil.", I wipe my mouth and pinch the bridge of my nose for having let this happen

"What's wrong? Loving you? Or you loving me?", he asks with bitterness in his tone

Furrowing my brows together, "You having a girlfriend is!", I run a hand through my messy hair, "You're in love with her…don't tell me otherwise, if she were a casual that'd go against your beliefs and you'd ended that long ago—Fuck buddies don't last long and don't call each pet names." _Always something, said, or done that ruins shit. _Punk's mouth opens as if to convince me otherwise but nothing comes out. And when I realize nothing will, I push past him. Swinging the door open I find a bewildered nurse, "Don't fuck with me.", I rush in the direction of the elevator.

Dinging of the elevator sounds and door open; I punch the button to my floor and lean against the wall and slump down. With my head on my knees and arms around them, I finally let sobs rack my entire being. Emotions overwhelm me and this…this entire mess of words and actions add to my feeling of sinking to a bottomless pit.

These are times when I need Wesley the most. These are the times that I wish I'd appreciated him just a bit more because, in all honesty, nobody could ever comfort me like him. _You're still in love with him and he's with you. _At this point…I have no clue how I feel about…anything.


	42. Chapter 42

**A/N- **I never expected to make this story roll on for this long…but I got sucked in. I've always known how I wanted to end it, but the road there is and was tough…Not giving anything away but something tells me that I've only got a few more chapters left.

Thank you to all of you who've kept me going by following, reviewing…and hell—even those mysterious readers. Thank you.

Now sit back, read, review, and follow.

CHAPTER 43

**Day 3**

It has been 2 days since Punk and I's little clash…things have been _funky_. After I came back to my room, I sort of had expected Punk to come running after me. He didn't. Should that have bothered me as much as it had? _No…HELL NO, I pushed him away_. Well, yeah… He made Colt leave Micks's side to come and watch over me.

Colt he tried. He really did. But I guess this was unavoidable. That day I kinda had a mental breakdown. Perhaps, everything poured onto me at once caused me to spill and tip over…I dunno. Things had happened so fast, y'know? One moment I'm fine, or at least normal, and then the next I'm in hysterics. Crying like a madwoman asking for Wesley and actually getting a hold of medical scissors and threatening to stab myself should Wesley not be called in. From an onlooker's P.O.V it must've been scary. Somehow they sedated me and strapped me to my bed before I regained my strength. Dr. Betty Azalea was brought in from the Psych Floor; to say she was surprised to see me so soon was understatement.

Betty at first was all nice and cordial and then…she became Dr. Azalea trying to assess me and shit. Telling me that I was gonna go through some stages of "Grief"…that's when I shut her non-sense off. _Needn't hear any of that_; I cut her off to ask for Mark. Betty just smiled that one smile people usually give to people they think need it. Whatever. Mark came through all happy and joyful to see me. We chatted for some time but then he needed to get back to work, something about "crazy new fuckers". He left his number should I need somebody to lean on or just to catch up. Docs stuck around but I assume gave up for the time being. She gave Colt some vouchers and her number for when "I'm ready to talk". _Bitch please…_

Pretty much recap of the past 2 days. After a couple questions and rechecking of my wounds…I'm being released. Should feel nice but I find it difficult to be going home without McKenzie or Wesley. You see, Micks has been struggling with her own mental war that she refuses to eat, talk—do anything that lets us know she's alive and sane. She's been signed off to the Psych Floor for further evaluation…she'll be out in a day or two. As for Wesley…he-he's dead. He's probably in that cold room where they keep bodies so they won't decay, probably all alone, slowly rotting…_Fuck! FUCK! _

"Marleene, woman, what's wrong?", asks Colt with concern as he wheels me out to the entrance of the hospital.

Here I am passing random ass people, crying like a maniac. They don't understand though. My BESTFRIEND, BROTHER…is-is no longer. Yet, I don't believe it. CAN'T BELIEVE IT. Just a few days ago, we were all partying together. He was laughing and enjoying himself. We had plans! Even before all this bullshit drama, we'd spend good ass times fucking around at the parlor or watching boxing matches at the bar or throwing mini-house parties at his crib. Maybe I'm just hallucinating or having warped mental illusions—yeah, like distorted reality. _Marleene, ya…ya no mas. Esta muerto. _

"Marleene, cupcake, talk to me…tell me where it hurts.", Colt is now at my feet, rubbing my knees.

I sniffle, "He's not dead, Scotty…ya'll just lying—pranking me.", I tell him with an almost cynical looking smile

Colt stares at me with affection, wipes my tears, and almost wills himself not to…cry? He stands up and keeps on rolling me out. He stops me at the main doors and begins to bundle me up. Maria put together a simple outfit of black sweats, Beatles tee, clog-slippers, jacket, and my Batman blanket. _She's nice…and you wanna snatch her novio?_ The brunette man, now wrapping me up in my Batman blankie, took it upon himself to dress me—_I wasn't gonna let some random mo-fo touch me! _Now that he's done, I smell the blankie and it smells of Snuggie…reminds me of _Mama _Rosa.

"Alright, big girl, you're set. Now, it's gonna be cold—I'm warning ahead so you won't yell at me.", he laughs and puts an arm around me.

The sound of happiness in his voice is enough to make me wanna sink and disappear but I can't. Tears appear, "Scott?", i whisper sounding like a child

"Yeah?", he says as he leads me outside into the snow filled streets of Chicago

I stop myself and he stops too, "Why am I alive…after all of this? Why me?"

**Day 5**

Settling in was the easiest thing I've done in a while. Actually getting up and doing shit…now, that's a mission. Colt usually has to bribe and plead just to get me out of bed. My arms feel sore as fuck, so they're useless. Everything is done for me: eating I'm fed, brushing hair and teeth done by Maria, getting things that's little Dominick's job, and well yeah, you get it. Only thing I do by myself is piss and the like.

Insomnia has overtaken my body. I've been awake since the day I got home. Letmme say one thing: IT FUCKING SUCKS. Totally blaming on these fucking loud ass, scary ass noises. Every time I'm about to knockout, a random freaky noise resounds and I'm left wide-awake—trembling. I feel so grumpy and tired.

Dominick doesn't utter a word to me unless he has to; I lashed him with my tongue. Colt and Maria understand or well HAVE to. Phil…he stays at the hospital with the baby and his youngest sister. Said sister is due back today which means, Phil's coming back too. Baby isn't coming back 'till another week. She's now named, Eleanor Grace. Just how Micks and Wes..._Wes. _

Somehow, even through all the statements made by Maria and Colt…I refuse to believe that Wesley is dead. _You need help. Your mind is fucking with you. _They even showed me his note…the one he wrote just in case he died. I've read it over and over before but…I don't know—maybe there's a possibility that I dreamt his death or something.

Swivel of the front door distracts me from my thoughts. I look down at myself and feel too crusty to be seen; I'm wearing a tank-top, shorts, and a robe. Before my legs can even get the message to get the fuck out the living room…the door opens. It's Phil holding Micks as though she'd fall without his support. The wrestler looks like a zombie with baggy-eyes, messy hair, and stumble. McKenzie looks lifeless. Her eyes show nothing but emptiness and solitude.

"Mommy you're home!", shrieks her little boy happily as he comes running to her side, "Where's my baby sister, Mommy?", he asks looking around

"Phil…get the kid away…from me.", she whispers. Punk stares at his youngest sibling as if asking if she's serious, "GET HIM AWAY!", she screeches

This outburst sends Dominick running to Maria, who has just entered the room, "What's going on? McKenzie…sweetie, what has gotten into you?", Maria picks up a crying Dominick and tries to soothe him

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP, GODDAMNIT!", Boy's mother leaves Punk's side and begins to drag her feet in the direction of her room. Poor 4yr old wails even louder, "Maria if you don't take him…", warns Micks. This is a side to the woman that I've never seen before. Never.

"C'mon kiddo, let's make you a sandwich.", Maria mean-mugs Micks as she heads into the kitchen

Punk still stands shocked by his sister's harshness but senses come back to him and he takes her arm like one does to a prisoner. My changed bestfriend continues on her way, nearing the hallway, but stops to glare my way. Previously emotionless eyes are now filled with hatred and rage, "You bitch.", she mutters at me and I'm taken aback, "Because of YOU, WESLEY'S DEAD!", she yells as if possessed by a demon, "THIS IS YOUR FAULT, YOU FUCKIN-"

Phil pulls her forcefully, "Shut up, McKenzie."

Her eyes wild, "WHY? WHY? MARLEENE…SELFISH BITCH! HE'S DEAD…BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR DR—", Punk delivers a slap to her cheek and drags her away. In my shock and disbelief, I hear Micks screech, "DON'T TOUCH ME.", a door slams

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Phil comes back. His eyes meet my watery ones, "He's not dead…why di-did she say that?", I whisper. My ex comes to my side and embraces me, "He's not dead…it's Wesley.", _Marleene open your eyes…you watched him be disconnected!_ "HE CAN'T BE!", I cry even harder and this is when I notice Phil's shaking body and whispers.

"Don't lose reality…no you too, Marleene…"

**Day 9**

Black a color that slims. Black a color used for sophistication. Black typically used for formal events like meetings, dinners, funerals. Black for mourning.

"Step through, Marley.", says Maria as she holds a dress at my feet. I comply with her wishes and step through. She shimmies it up my legs and hips, "Arms through, honey.", with a wince, I lift and put my arms through the slits, "Suck in the gut!", I hold my breath as she zips it up, "You look beautiful."

Looking at myself in the mirror, I notice that the dress is quite cute. Fitted bodice with an A-line skirt…it's black. Something's off about today. We're going to a funeral—they won't tell me who's. _Poor family. _Going back and looking in the mirror, my arms depress me, "Maria…how can I hide this?", I point to my scars

Smiling sweetly, she grabs a black matching jacket, "This'll do. I'm going to finish up. Here…", she hands me black heels and blood red roses, "Put'em on and hold those.", another smile and I'm out the room. _She's so nice…_

Walking into the living room, I notice Punk standing by the double slide doors that lead into the backyard...just staring outside. Even though we haven't really talked since…since the day in the closet…I can't help but want to ask him what's eating him. Mustering up some courage, I walk over and stand next to him, "What's eating you?"

Jumping a bit, "You scared me…", he rolls up the cuffs on his black dress-shirt, "I-I guess all of what's happened.", he throws on his tie, "Could you do thee honors?", he implies tying his tie

Gulping slightly, I nod. Setting my shoes and roses on the table I take hold of the tie, "So…who's funeral we goin' to?", I ask as I do his tie

"Um…Is Maria almost ready? I gotta be there to um…be one of the carriers…"

Inwardly, his asking about his girlfriend annoys me. We both came out and even though I deny it…I'm hoping he'll end it and just be real, "Yeah, she just needs to touch up. Where's Colt?", pulling one part through, his tie was perfect but my arms felt sore causing me lean against his chest.

"Already left. Something hurt?", he asks tenderly

"It's the arms…sore.", I reply. Hands grab my waist firmly and lift me off the ground. Gasping, I'm put atop the edge of the table, "Phil, this bitch gonna break!",

For the first time in a long while, he laughs or attempts to, "Relax. Gimme a foot."

Raising a brow, I lift my right. Feels like that scene in Cinderella when Prince Charming fits the shoe on the very own Cinderella because Phil is putting on my heel. He moves to put on the other one and lets my leg swing. His fingertips glide up my leg, mid thigh, and both hands land on either side of my hips. Phil leans over me, and I'm damn near shitting myself from the closeness. "You aren't afraid that you'll slip on those?"

"Uh…N-no?", he's leaning in and I'm fighting with my conscience on whether I should move or sink into the pending kiss

"Babe, I'm rea—", I quickly turn and notice that Maria stands confused. Phil 180s and runs a hand through his hair, "I-I'm ready…we can go.", the usual smile returns and she strolls by as if she never witnessed a thing.

Groaning inwardly, I trail behind her with the roses in hand. Punk comes behind me trying to whisper in my ear but I beat him to it, "Stop. You're taken. I really don't wanna hurt her like that…I know what it's like to be cheated on.", with that I push him off and proceed towards…Wesley's beloved muscle car. _I can't do this…_

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Once light tan skin is now some of off tan. He lays there as if he's in deep sleep. My quivering hand reaches to touch his cheek…its cold. My hand retracts. With his hands over his chest creating an 'X' over the _Virgen de Guadalupe_ he lays there unmoving. This man, this body belonged to my bestfriend, Wesley. Now, that I see him up close and personal…it hit me that he really is gone like everybody has tried to tell.

My hands tremble as they latch onto the casket in a death grip, lips quiver under the teeth that keep'em closed, and tears escape from under their umbrellas called eyelids. _Te dije, Marleene. _

"Honey, there's people behind us waiting to say goodbye…go on, you'll be okay.", whispers Maria from behind.

_GOODBYE? _This lets me loose, "If they wanna say 'goodbye' then screw them. It's NEVER a 'goodbye'…it's an 'I'll see you later'.", _He's really gone…Oh god, oh god… _"No…", I whisper as I let myself fall still holding onto the coffin, "NO! WESLEY WHY?", I screech out, "POR QUE ME DEJASTE SOLA? WHY'D YOU DO IT? FUCK! FUCK!", my sobs drown out anything and everything else

"Girl, c'mon let's get up…C'mon.", says Colt in a soothing voice

I shake my head violently, "NO! I-I CAN'T LET'EM GO…MY BROTHER…"

"Mars, please…It's hard but you gotta keep strong…Walk with me, baby.", he says in an even gentler voice

"LEAVE ME BE!"

"Sorry…", the man literally rips me off the coffin and throws me over his shoulder. I'm here violently trying to fight my way back. We pass Punk trying to console Elvira, both crying silently, "Man, you needa help me with Mars."

Colt hands me off to Punk and the man tows me over to a nearby tree. For awhile all we do is stare at the ground silently crying. That is until I give up and let myself drop to my knees on the cold, slushy, ground weeping my eyes out, "I give up…", I begin in between sobs, "I give up. I'm done being strong or pretending. He was my bestfriend and now-now he's GONE. He left me alone! I've got nobody…My fam is out in Maryland, Micks doesn't even wanna know anything about the world anymore, everybody else…they-they—NOBODY'S WESLEY!"

Phil hikes up his pants and squats to my level, "You're not alone…", the tears in his eyes match my own. Sincerity and naked honesty wrap into his next words, "You've got me, Marleene, am I not good enough to lean on? I've lost my brother too. I need somebody to lean on…somebody who shares my pain—You."

To keep myself from feeling more of a shit-filled bitch, I wipe his tears, and embrace him. He lets go and sobs hysterically. Who knows for how long…who cares? His sobs become whimpers—all of this is a side to the man who I believe myself to be in love with…a new one—and in the distance I'm sure we can both hear the Mexican band playing, "_Entierenme con la Banda_", which means the casket is about to be lowered. With the only strength left in me, I pull Phil away from me and kiss his cheek, "No, I don't got you. Probably won't ever. Not until you leave Maria…which would be a horrible choice.", my lips begin to tremble but the truth hurts, "You don't need someone like me, no—", he tries to interrupt me, "no you need somebody strong, smart, and caring…Maria.", with that I walk away pretending to have confidence in my words.

As they lower Wesley's casket, people take turns in sprinkling dirt on it. It's a tradition. My turn came and I linger a bit until Colt gently tugs me. Thankfulness consumes me for him having done that. Elvira goes last and that's when it all comes to her—the reality, her baby is gone.

In an attempt to fulfill Wes's wish, I go to her and tell her, "_El dijo que la quiere m-mucho senora…que sea fuerte. __Que el hizo lo que hizo por su propia voluntad…Senora, el la quiere con todo su ser desde aqui hasta el infinito_."

Elvira embraces me, a first. She sobs into my shoulder. The woman is so frail that I'm afraid to even try to detach her from me. Hearing and seeing how much this mother actually cared for her son brings me to tears…_my own mother_… "_Gracias muchacha…gracias. Me voy a ir con Eduardo…esta es la última vez que no vamos a mirar…so, let pido que se cuide y siga viviendo si no por usted…por mi hijito. El murió tratando de salvarla._", I nod my head, "_Dios este con usted, nena._"

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Feeling the rumble and vibrations in Wes's beloved muscle car, I begin to wonder if life will ever be the same…return to normal, or even have a sense of normalcy. Being in this car makes me wanna jump out of it, if only to be able to join Wes and Fannie up in the sky, but I can't do that. So for the moment or time being all I wanna do is go home, slide under my covers, and stay there—never speaking to anybody.

Phil tries to test his luck by holding my hand, but I quickly remove mine. Maria next to him is holding his, pretending she didn't just see. She reminds me of myself. And myself is the person I hate the most at the moment.


	43. Chapter 43

**A/N- **So, Mar is going through the 5 Stages of Grief…my attempt to try and convey them.

CHAPTER 44

**Day 19**

Through the wall I can hear the cry of a hungry baby. With every second of that annoying sound, I crawl under the covers. The same covers I've been under for the past 10 days since…yeah. My body feels restless and tired for I have not caught up on sleep; Main reason being the baby which resides here in the house now. Seeing as to I don't talk or do much of anything…all these things should come to me easily but sleep is my enemy.

Eleanor Grace arrived, I wanna say, 6 days ago? Well yeah, Maria and Phil both went to scoop the baby up. Ask me a couple weeks ago or days even, and I would've told you how fucking excited I was to meet the kid. Ask me now…tables have turned, cards flipped. In the meantime, while these people were bringing baby home…I was devising a plan to ignore and not acknowledge her. Simple thought of seeing her made my skin crawl because last time I saw the frail being, she reminded me of her father…too much. First thing that came to mind was moving in with _Mama _Rosa BUT Dominick is already staying there. Yeah, Micks and I both drove Maria into getting him outta the crib for his own mental health. The next was moving into the upper-floor of Inkblot BUT that'd drive me to point of insanity—if I'm not there yet.

Front door creaked open and footsteps shuffled in. Gasping, I pulled my hair thinking about just how fucked I was. My hand felt around for my trusty Batman blankie, that shit never leaves my sight as it is my safety cover, and tiptoed it to my door. Silently, I peaked though the tiny crevice I managed to open. Maria held the baby with such adoration and care, kinda killed me. Phil just sat on the edge of the couch, smiling at the sight. This had made me so jealous; I actually walked over to them, cautiously.

Both had seemed genuinely surprised by my presence, "Hey, look who finally crawled from under her rock.", said Phil, seemingly happily. How he managed to not crumble like Micks and me surprised me.

"Look Eli, it's Auntie Marley.", cooed Maria to the tiny bundle in her arms. Observing how lovingly Punk's girlfriend held the bundle made me feel depressed, "Marleene, you wanna hold her?", she asked

Wringing my hands nervously, "N-no…I just wanted to…", Maria's fuckin' pout and owl eyes made me give in, "Um…fine."

The woman squeals happily, too happily, "Okay you just su—"

"I KNOW…I know, I've held babies before…", it sounded terrible but I hadn't meant to come off like that.

Woman just kept on smiling, how she usually does, and handed me Eleanor Grace. Never in my life had I taken into consideration how much kids look like their parents. With shaky hands I uncovered the child's face a bit more and stared at Wesley's reflection. At first I had thought I'd be good but the more I kept staring the more I wanted to cry…which I did. Baby looked, looks, so much like her pops. From the ears, nose, hair, to the eyes. "She looks so much like him…", I whisper, something I did must've woken up the diaper-user 'cus the baby began to wail. This shit had made me jump and tremble causing me to ALMOST drop her. "HE-HERE!", I pushed the love child into Maria's arms and scrambled in the direction in which I came from.

As I closed the door, a foot stopped it. I backed away and began pacing about the room trying to calm myself down. All of that had sent me into an emotional breakdown type of thing. Oh how I had regretted ever having gotten out of bed.

Strong tattooed arms engulfed me at the waist from behind and slowly my shaking had gone down to just sobs, "It's okay, doll.", he kept repeating but we both knew NOTHING was or will ever be just 'okay'. Funny, really, how being in those arms had given me a sense of comfort and safety.

So yeah, it has been 6 days and I have yet to get used to the baby's cries. That's just me…Micks, she's a different story. The woman can't stand her own child. Literally goes into a rage when Eli cries or coos. Sometimes, I feel that Micks woulda' killed the kid already if she were on her own. Shit, she woulda' killed ME. Point blank, McKenzie lost a part of herself when Wesley…yeah.

**Day 36**

It's my fault Wesley's dead. I mean, if I had told him to back away or DONE SOMETHING he'd be here. Even HE tells me. Asks me why I didn't do shit to save him. In my dreams—nightmares. My brain, my body, soul can't—hasn't been at peace with itself. Somewhere, I know different but fucking hell…

Everybody up in this house avoids me at all costs. My mood swings have taken a turn for the worst and I lash out at anybody, for anything. My frustration and anger cannot just be contained.

Why did this happen to me? Why couldn't that cunt, bitch, whore have gone in his place? WHY DO PEOPLE WHO DESERVE TO LIVE AND THRIVE…DIE?

**Day 51**

Just another, of many, sleepless nights where all I do is stare out my window and think about Wesley and how or what he's doing. Wishing to be there, wherever _there _is. Rethinking about things I could've, should've, and would've done to have prevented his death. Just another night going over the path my life has taken. It has been little over a month since Bossman's untimely death and I still spend my days cooped up in my room crying, thinking, wondering, eating—nothing productive to say the least.

Maria bathes and shaves me…talks to me even knowing that I most likely won't reply. Colt and Phil feed me and constantly try to make me leave the safety of my room to go out. Eli is now about a month old and I have yet to acknowledge her; Micks still refuses to touch her, maybe tolerate her, but never touch or anything. Dominick is holding up at _Mama _Rosa's but wants to come home. Thing's outside these walls I have no clue of, unless somebody texts me…which is 24/7. Mostly people from the parlor or people who know me and have my number; I keep my phone off most of the time and only reply when they start believing that I'm 6ft under. Neighbors come over and help out with the cleaning and the baby. Some go as far as cooking full meals and shopping.

Just another night but then my phone starts vibrating like crazy, a call. Confusedly, I pick up the damned thing and look at the called ID. To my surprise it's Randall Keith Orton. For the past couple of days he has kept a tab on me but this is the first time he has called, which actually makes me wanna smile.

"Hello?", my voice sounds gravelly from the lack of use

"Well hello Gorgeous.", he croons. _Fucking cocky bastard_

Sighing, "Shuttup, stud."

The man gasps, "That isn't how you greet somebody you supposedly miss so much."

That earns him the tiniest chuckle, the closest thing to happy, from me, "Ha ha. Why you callin' so late? You drunk?"

"Nah, I'm just in my hotel room…restless. You came into my mind and well I just hadda' call.", _sarcastic!, _"I'm in Seattle, by the way."

Getting out of bed, "Mmm…well all I'm gonna do is bore you. Must be nice to travel though…"

"I don't care. Just wanted to catch up and check up you, sweetheart. Eh.", he says

Walking out of the room and tiptoeing to the living room, "Nothing to catch up…just how much I-I miss Wesley…and you, of course. And how fat I've gotten. I'm fine…really."

I hear him sigh, "Honestly wish you didn't have to go through something so horrible, but that's how life is, darling. Time'll pass and the wound will scar—sure it'll still reopen once in awhile but you just gotta remember the good times and keep strong. As for missing me, hell I must say I get that quite a lot.", he chuckles and I smile a fraction, "But this 'I'm fat' thing…no, no, no…I bet you look just as good as when I met you."

Settling into the couch, "I know, I know but still…it hurts. I'm not one for showing my feelings and shit but damn…I've never felt so down, so-so…", my lips tremble

"You can talk to me, you know?"

I nod my head as if he'd be able to see, "Its just that…he was my bestfriend, Randy.", I close my eyes, "Maybe, just maybe, I coulda' done something to-to…I don't know."

"Look, keeping on with the If's and But's will only do more harm than good…you just gotta learn to accept how things are. It's hard, trust me when I lost my brother…man. It was difficult, we were so close."

This came as a shocker to me, "You had a brother?"

"Robert, he died in a car crash way back when I was a kid. As I said, it was hard but…eventually, you learn to live with it."

His words linger in my mind but don't help much, "Thanks…Really."

"Anytime…but hey, when am I gonna see you again?"

Tapping my chin, "I don't know…not to be a bitch but I rather not see you…or people in general…for awhile."

"I understand. You need alone time."

"Yeah…", after some silence, "How's Addie and Sam?"

"Well, from what they tell me over the phone…they're great. I miss Ads…never did I think being a dad could be so…I don't know, hearing her voice or her laugh makes my day better. Is it wrong to say I love the kid even if I've just barely met her?"

A small smile graces my face at this info, "Nah…it's cute actually."

"Oh be quiet…but yeah. Sam…Sam she's actually pretty chill. Well, from what I've come to know."

"You ain't trynna get in her panties, are ya'?"

He gasps, "Wha—Why would you even ask such a thing? Of course I'm not… 'cus I've already."

My eyes open wide, "You're sucha dog, Randy."

"You jealous?"

My cheeks burn slightly, "Just a tinsy-winsy bit."

He chuckles, "You got Punk to keep you busy while I'm hard at work."

I gasp, "Fuck you."

"Whenever."

"Ugh…"

He laughs, "Talkin' 'bout the man…what's up with you and him? Don't deny…you've told Dave and me about that."

Rolling my eyes, "It's…difficult."

"How? Can't get it up or…?", _he has a woman…_

"I-I really don't wanna get into this…I've got a lot on my plate as it is…I don't need that shit…"

"Sorry…"

"Eh, it's okay."

"If it's any consolation…Dave and Maria have a thing…it's pretty serious. So she'll be outta the way sooner or later."

My interest peaks upon hearing this but depletes…_She's still in love with Phil and probably won't leave him for a fling_. Sudden fatigue overcomes me, or it's just that talking about Phil has brought my mood down—whatever, I fake a yawn, "Hey, I think ima call it a night…Take care, call me whenever."

"Alright. Take care, Marleene…I mean it, no crazy business. I still gotta find a way to bring you with me on the road.", he chuckles, "Wish me luck 'cus with only a few hours of sleep and this signing I gotta do…I'll be a zombie."

I chuckle, "No worries and good luck, hotshot. Text me if anything.", with that I click and so returns the sadness and shit.

**Day 60**

"Marleene…Maleene…Doll. DOLL.", calls out a voice but I can't really hear it. My main focus is getting away from Wes's zombie grasp. "DOLL…IT'S JUST DREAM…WAKE UP."

Shaking back to consciousness, I realize that I'm on the floor. Phil is all up in my face with a look of concern and I'm soaked in a thin layer of cold sweat, heavily panting. "What happened?", I ask feeling confused and yet shaken

"You were having a nightmare, beautiful.", he says tucking a strand of hair behind my ear

Rubbing my eyes, flashes of my nightmare come back to me and shake me up even more. The dream itself shouldn't be scary but it was Wes coming back as a zombie…coming back to get me. In this dream, he hates me with a passion, cursing the day we became bestfriends—saying all the things I've always feared would come out of his mouth and the things I fear he wants to say even now that he's long gone. I tuck in my knees and begin to rock back and forth, whispering 'No' over and over as if that'd get rid of these horrible thoughts.

"Hey, hey…beautiful, listen to me…hey…", Phil's futile attempt to get through to me. Off his knees, he picks me up bridal-style, takes me to the vacant living room, and sits down—still holding. He holds me like he held me at the hospital, like an infant. Lips peck the top of my jungle of hair and whisper soothing things.

Without thinking, I hug the man I try to avoid, to keep away…I hug him. My body, too tired of restraining all emotion…gives up. Yeah, I sob into his shirt as he strokes my arms. Usually, I'd run into my room and lock myself in but not this time. I cry out all my anger, hurt, sadness—everything. _This is you realizing you can't bargain anymore. This is you letting go of all that anger…this is you not wanting to be lonely or isolated…this is you coming back._

"Beautiful…", begins Phil, "it's okay. Calm do—"

I lift up from his chest, tears running like streams down my cheeks and all, "It's not okay. Just hold me, Phil…hold me beca-because…this is me realizing tha-that he's gone and there's nothing I can do about it. This is me accepting. Hold me and shut up. Hold me because in your arms I feel safe. Hold me."

And that he does. Until, I'm sound asleep and limp.

**Day 64**

Sometime way past midnight, I'm half-asleep. It's cold but feel ever so warm once I snuggle further into the body next to me…_BODY?_ This sets off alarms in my head…_bed intruder! _Ever so slowly, I crane my neck to see who exactly sneaked into my bed. When I do manage to peek…I quickly turn to look out into the moonlight that shines through my half-open windowsills, smile slightly, and close my eyes once more hoping to get at least another hour or two of sleep.

If you question who it is…it's Phillip Jack Brooks. Is this a new occurrence? Not since 4 days ago. Of course, to a woman who is half-asleep this is alarming.

The man has made his way since that day when I gave him that 'Hold me' speech. Most likely because of my reoccurring nightmares that weirdly only ever go away if he's holding me. As I said, in his arms I feel comfort and safety. No ground rules, as I don't mention this during the day…we barely speak as it is. He usually leaves in the early hours of the morning for his coffee run. This new ground is…weird but then again…my life hasn't been normal in a long time. Maybe this is wrong—sure feels it, but it feel just too right. Plus, this way I actually sleep soundly; his breathing soothes me. The warmness he adds relaxes my nerve-filled body. The beating of his heart reminds me that…I can at least sleep and know I'll wake up to the man, who like Wesley, I love—except in a non-brotherly way. _Convincing yourself?_

Squirming a bit, my conscience always bothers me, I sigh feeling guilty. Maria would bust a cap in somebody if she knew. That is, if she doesn't already. _What if she knows? It's not as if we're fucking…I mean…_ "Beautiful…I'm a light sleeper…stop moving around…", tensing up, I close my eyes tight. It has been only 4 days, this still feels awkward. Punk wraps his arm around me and snuggles with his head atop my head, "Sleep…"

Something I've noticed, is that the bags under the man spooning me…they've disappeared. Well, not fully but somewhat. He's an insomniac; why else would he have heard me crying in my sleep? Also, nobody goes on a coffee run at 5 in the morning…unless they're blue collar workers and the man isn't one. _Stop over thinking and sleep…_

Last thing before my mind drifts off, like always, is about Wesley. _I miss you, dude. Like a lot. Send me a sign that you're okay and don't hate me…_


	44. Chapter 44

**A/N- **Has that filler feeling…

I need some inspiration-fuel… Read, Review, Follow! (:

. CHAPTER 45

**Day 69**

Lips gently peck my hair and proceed down my neck succeeding in waking me up from a dreamless slumber. My lips curve into a miniature smile and through foggy vision I stare lovingly at the person giving those sweet kisses. My hand comes up to caress the stubble filled cheek as if feeling around for a sense of dream or if this is really reality. Olive-greens close and this is when I know it isn't just some fantasy, and when I know that this is wrong and crosses the unseen ground rules that I have set for myself while I sleep in the arms of the owner of those beautiful eyes. My smile dissolves and hand retracts; lazily, I sit up and swing my legs over the side of my bed rubbing my eyes. _Man, oh man, is it getting hard to control this shit…_

Hands land on my shoulders, gently massaging them, "Why up so early? Have a nightmare, beautiful?", he whispers in my ear and I shiver. _Don't do that…_

Shaking off the tattooed hands, I stand up, "Don't start getting touchy-feely with me, Punk…just don't."

Bed creaks and arms encircle me from behind. A toned chest against my back and um…morning wood down south—to say I'm uncomfortable is truly, really an understatement. Breath against the nape of my neck and ear slowly starts heating me up like a furnace, "You can't expect me to sleep in the same bed and not want to touch…you forget that I'm a man.", even though I can't see the smirk…I KNOW it's there.

"Well, shit…that's why you've got Maria, sugar.", elbowing him so he'd let go, I turn around to face him, "Don't take advantage of the fact that I'm fucking vulnerable right now; we both know my mind isn't at it's best.", when he doesn't respond, I take my leave.

Punk pulls me back into him; my hands use his chest to steady myself and also to try to push him away. BUT being that he's a wrestler and all, it's useless to struggle, "You act as if you're the only who lost Wes. I lost Wes too! Damnit! You said that with me, in my arms, you feel safe…yeah?", Phil raising his voice scares the shit outta me especially 'cus he's grabbing me tightly by the shoulders, "It's the same for me. When I hold you everything feels like…like it's gonna be alright, like I'll be fine for the time being. These past couple of days have been the only time I've ever fallen asleep without disturbance; its because of you, Marleene…you make me feel at peace when I hold you. When you're sound asleep and all peaceful…I watch you, creepy as it sounds…I watch you to see that you're the woman I wanna wake up to and fall asleep with for however long I'll grace the world with my presence. Forgive me but sometimes I forget that I can't do all or show all of what I feel for you. Not being able to fucking kiss you and tell you—show you how much I love you it-it frustrates me. YOU pushing me away frustrates me—do you even feel the same? Tell me 'cus I feel like I'm just ranting to a brick wall random ass nonsense."

"YES.", I blurt out, "Yes, I feel something for you…I-I don't know what it is. I'm confused. With everything around me falling over…I can't think.", whispering, "All I know is that I don't want any of your affections…Maria deserves respect. She's taking care of everything—she at least deserves a faithful boyfriend.", breathing deeply, "Maybe you're just in love with the person who I was…Phil, maybe things have changed…you just can't let a good woman like her go.", wiggling out of his grasp, I begin to make my way to the door and out it.

Nearing the bathroom, I'm pushed into the wall gently and turned around. Things happen so fast, I don't even have time to blink an eye, Phil kisses me. _Just like the utility closet…_, "Stop pushing me away…Letmme in…Marleene…", he mumbles in between kisses.

Desire is a hell of a strong emotion. Phil pushes up against me, kissing me with need. His lips show the frustration and want he tried to explain with words. As he nips and tugs at my bottom lip, the coldness of his lip-ring drives me up the wall. Instinct kicks in and I push him up against the wall. My hands travel up his torso to his hair, gently pulling it as my tongue meets his. A brush of his tongue ring makes me moan softly into his mouth. Calloused hands run down my sides and slowly up my shirt. _Why are we so fucked up? _

Exaggerated cough breaks through to me and bring me back. My eyes shut tightly, or more if that's even possible. Phil stops what he's doing and groans. Opening my eyes slowly, I writhe in embarrassment…Colt, in SpongeBob pj's and all, leans against the wall with a look of pure amusement and 'I knew it' written all over it.

Believe me, if I could disappear into thin air… I would. How I let this happen, I have no clue. Feels like I'm living a_ novela_ with the whole "_amor imposible_" storyline and shit. "Don't mind me, kids…I just ask to be let into the bathroom.", states Colt with a giant ass smirk. I slide to the side to let him through. As he opens the door to enter, he stops, "Word from the wise, if you're gonna be doing such things…make them less hearable…and well, conspicuous.", I growl at him and he quickly closes with laughter erupting behind it.

Guilt floods my being when I spot a zombie-looking Maria making her way to us. My face flushes even more and I feel as though Ima collapse at any given second. Gray eyes stare down olive-greens silently portraying guilt and regret.

With a sleepy yawn, "Babe…Marley…what ya'll doing up so early?"

Usually, I'd come up with a reply but being in the position I'm in…I'm wordless, "Waiting for Colt to get out the damn bathroom…Dude has got some bladder issues or something…", replies Phil

Wrinkling her nose, "You're disgusting, babe.", she stands on her tippy-toes and pecks the man…on the lips. My mouth SEMI drops and Phil stares at me as if trying to say 'sorry'

"Ima just go…back to sle-sleep.", I mumble trying my best not to feel upset. _Claiming territory, Maria?_

Shutting the door to my room, I sink down and run a hand through my tangled, curly hair. Letting out a sigh, I look up and out the window. _Wesley, what's gonna happen? Why'd you go when I need you the most? I have nobody to confide in…nobody like you._

**Day 71**

Morning, midday, afternoon, night, midnight…the only way I knew days passed. Every day was pretty much the same as in routine-wise. That was until today, yeah, today I found out that it's February 11th, 2006. Exactly 71 days or 2 months, 1 week, and 4 days…since the day I woke up from unconsciousness and since Wesley's departure from the world as we know it. Literally, I've isolated myself from the outside world by spending 2 months cooped up in my room, under my covers…crying most of the time.

Time, a lot of it, has passed me by from right under my nose and this depresses me even more. Realizing that I have yet to actually wake up one day and feel ready to face the world…depresses me. Lacking the balls to even hold tiny Eleanor Grace or even be able to withstand the childish mannerisms of Dominick, whom I haven't seen in years it seems…depresses me. Micks not tolerating her child or me…depresses me. Wanting Phil but not being able to snatch him away from Maria's side…depresses me. EVERYTHING DEPRESSES ME.

Topping off everything else are two things. One of them being the fact that it has been 2 months since my bestfriend died and the sound of his voice…his laughter—it has faded from my memory. I can no longer remember the sweet sound of his voice or laugh unless I watch old clips. My promise to keep him forever in my memory…feels like it has been broken and this depresses me to the point of not wanting to ever get out of this stupid fucking bed. Second, 3 days 'till Valentine's Day. After having spent nearly half a decade being one of the many taken women…I find it difficult to be alone—especially on such a day. Aside from that, the 14th is significant for it was the day in which Phil asked me out…8 years ago.

Covers rip off of me, ripping me away from my thoughts. Trying to salvage what little dignity I have, I pull down my oversized shirt to cover my exposed panties. "Ah…like I haven't seen that before.", my eyes widen at his comment, "I've dressed you before…", he states innocently

Rolling my eyes, "What'dya want, Colt? I'm tired."

Crossing his arms over his chest, "Well, I'd like for you to actually get up today…it's 1 in the afternoon and you haven't left this bed since…forever."

Rolling over onto my stomach, "Well keep wishing…I don't feel like getting up."

"Woman, stop being a zombie…I miss you, somewhat."

Raising a hand to shoo him away, "Miss me somewhere else."

Soon as I begin to think he's left, I'm picked up and slung over his shoulder, "I really didn't want to have to resort to plan B, woman."

Kicking and wiggling, "COLT, SO HELP ME GOD, IF YOU DON'T LET ME DOWN I WILL—"

"Not gonna work…Now, hush up…kiddo is sleeping!", he says tapping my ass

Colt walks straight toward the main bathroom and I begin to wonder what in Hell's name he's up to. Opening the door, he walks in and deposits me in the waiting tub full or water…COLD water. A shriek erupts from my mouth, "FUCK YOU."

Seemingly happy with himself now, "At least you feel something other than sadness and all that good stuff…", he shrugs with a big ol' grin. Puffing out a shaky sigh, I pout my lips ready to cry. I put my face in my hands, "Mar?", sneaking a peek I notice the man look confused, "Mar? Are you gonna cry?", I shake my head but secretly know he won't believe it, "Oh shit…", he mutters under his breath, "C'mon, gimme your hand…I'm sorry—I just wanted to get you out of bed and well…yeah."

Instead of reaching up for his hand, I stand up and hug the dude…completely drenching his front, "I was just fucking with you.", I manage a slight chuckle, "But I just wanna go and hide under my rock now…"

Holding me at arm's length, "You little brat!", he smiles sadly, "You serious? I'm leaving tonight…heading out to my hometown for the remainder of my vacation, and I just wanted to take you out one last time."

Whatever smile was forming, disappeared. My heart sank a bit, "You're leaving me too?", I hadn't meant it to sound like that but yeah…

Noticing my pending tears, Colt pulls me into him and rubs my damp hair, "No, no…Well sort of but you got my number just in case you want to hear my sexy voice."

Pouting, "Mm…I guess…"

"Hey, no need to be all down as of now, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go."

Removing myself, I eyeball him feeling awkward, "I-I can bathe myself, thank you."

"You probably can BUT I don't want to risk anything, sorry chicky-baby", Colt unclogs the drain and all the cold water drains out. He turns on the faucet and lets warm water in, reclogging the drain, "Strip, woman!"

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Some convincing later, we now sit at a table looking through a menu at La Quinta de los Reyes. Smelling all the delicious food around me makes my stomach growl and feel better about finally leaving the safety of the house.

After ordering, Colt leans back in his chair, "How have you been feeling, honestly? You pretty much isolated yourself from the household, girl."

Playing with a napkin, "I'd be lying if I said 'swell'…A part of me feels lost—like gone."

"Can't say I understand but you needa see the brightness of the future. Wes would've wanted you to move on and keep going forward."

Remembering his note, "He did say that. I-I just can't help myself…he was my bestfriend."

Colt leans over to take hold of my hand, as words cannot do much. Comfortable silence passes by until our food is served and we start maxing out like hungry dogs.

"What about Phil?", asks Colt with a mouthful of food

Looking up from my plate, "What about him?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Come on…we both know what I'm hinting at."

And I do. Flashback makes me shiver slightly and goosebumps rise on my arms, "Before that incident he'd been sleeping with me…", Colt nearly chokes on his food, "Not like _that_! Sleeping as in SLEEPING. For some reason, when he held me at night…I'd have no nightmares and well yeah. Anywho, I woke up to his kisses and he tried to be touchy—which didn't ride with me. I blew up and well somehow we ended up how you found us.", telling Colt made me feel ashamed

Wiping his mouth before finally speaking, "Why you guys beating around the bush? All this sexual tension is like toxic. Even being all depressed as you are…we feel it emanate from Phil and your room."

If I would have sipped on my margarita…it'd be spit out, "Shut up. You know why we can't be sneaking. And who the fuck is _we_?"

Furrowing his brows, "You shittin' me, right?", I raise an eyebrow, "Woman, you honestly believe that Maria doesn't have a clue?", my eyeball figuratively pop out their sockets, "Yeah…she just chooses to ignore. Why Philly doesn't just end that suffrage…I have no idea.", he smiles randomly, "You'd make something happen if Phil were single and ready to mingle, wouldn't you?"

Shaking myself out of my shock, "Honestly…I'd go for it. Should it blow up in my face, at least I'd have a sense of closure.", _finally, you've stopped lying to yourself…_

After some small talk and finishing our food, we stuck around for some dancing and karaoke. Felt like the first time that I actually had a sense of feeling alive. My mourning was forgotten for the time being and for that, I thank Colt for having done what he did.

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One by one, Colt said goodbye to us. He'd done some packing after we came home and now he was leaving. Call it selfishness but I wanted him to stay so badly. I'd probably be sadistic enough to tie him to a tree. The only friend I have in the house was leaving me in the hands of Sir Temptation, Little Miss Perfect, Lady Psycho, and a baby.

"Alright, miss this isn't a goodbye.", whispers Scott as he pulls me into a hug. As soon as I feel the warmth of his arms, I unravel.

"Please stay…", I mumble against his chest

He sighs, "I'd love to but I miss my momma.", he pulls away from me and wipes my tears, "Blow up my phone if you have to…I'll miss you too much, lovely. Don't fret though…with any luck you'll see my sexy self in the summer."

His attempt at breaking a smile outta me fails, "Okay…just take care and go…'cus the longer you take the more time I'll have to devise a plan to make you stay.", I embrace him once more

Colt's body trembles with soft laughter, "I've grown on you…oh yeah!", I look up and stick out my tongue, "Just promise me that you'll get better not just for me and Wes but for yourself…", I unconvincingly nod my head, "And that you'll fix shit up with Jesus over there.", he looks in Phil's direction

"Ahh…that's a mission. Rather put that off until I'm in a better state but…just go, your taxi awaits."

Both Phil and I escort Colt to his cab and help him stuff his suitcases into the tiny trunk. One last bro-hug between the bestfriends and Scott bear hugs me once more. As the cab speeds off, we both wave him off until he's nothing more but a speck in the distance.

Something makes Punk and I stay way after Scott has left. Everything before today comes back…the sadness, the depression…_todo._ Though we don't show it, we both are staring at each other through peripheral vision. Mustering up some courage, "I may not be sure about many thing but best believe that…", I face him, "first loves are probably the only loves you'll keep on loving no matter what.", as subtle as it is I believe he knows what I hint at. Not giving it much time to turn into a moment, I drag myself all the way to my room…back to my solace where I spend the rest of my energy trying to remember the sound of Wes's voice and laughter.


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N-** Merged two chaps together... Don't give up on me, yet!

**Day 74**

*flashback*

(February 14th, 2005)

"…_Noah, so help YOU Jesus, if you aren't here in the next 30 mins…IT'S OVER.", I yell into the cell phone. I'd been freezing my ass off outside the restaurant/bar, Maude's, for the past 10 mins trying to reach my boyfriend, Noah to no avail—I had to resort to leaving threatening voicemails. _

_Silently brooding but passing it off with a show-smile, I make my way back in towards our table where Ramses, a mutual friend, and his girlfriend await us…well me since the man of the hour is nowhere to be found. _

"Todavia no contesta_?", asks Thalia, Ramses's girl. She knows the answer…the petty smile says it._

_Sipping on my Coke wishing it were STRONG liquor—since I'm not yet legal to drink, "No, no…said he'd be here in half hour.", I smile unconvincingly_

"_Well_, la noche esta _young…Ima go get me a drink_ from el_ bar. Be back, _portense bien chiquillas.", _announces Ramses in his noticeable accent, he kisses his girl and walk off leaving us girls alone._

_Jumping a seat to not be as far away, I sit next to Thalia, "So… have you told him yet?"_

_Thalia looks at me with a confused stare_, "Que dices?"

_Rolling my eyes at her pretending not understanding me—she understands English but can't speak it_, "No te hagas_"_

_Girl giggles and nudges me playfully, "No ehm…I have not.", she grins proudly at herself_

_Rolling my eyes once more, "You speak 3 words in English_ y ya te crees_.", she sticks out her tongue, and I laugh, "Why haven't you told him? You're like…3 months along, woman!"_

_Quickly shushing me and looking about for any traces of her boyfriend, "Not that loud…_es que estoy esperando el moment corecto_.",_ _she tells me, patting her still-lean tummy_

_Simple and adorable as the gesture is, I'd be fibbing if I said it hadn't bothered me because it had. Not that I want a kid, no…it's just that it'd be nice. Noah hates kids so even if I wanted any it'd be_ impossible.

"Oye, por que esa cara_?", asks Thalia _

_Forcing a tiny smile, "Nothing, nothing…just that this dude is taking forever to get here!"_

"_Which one, I'm here…no worries.", chuckles Ramses, half scaring me to death, "Sorry.", he places a type of red wine in front of Thalia and me, "Beer didn't look_ muy _classy.", he adds with a frown_

"_Thanks.", I tell him before downing the wine_

_The couple stares at me but the secretly pregnant woman speaks up, "_No…no quiero, gracias_."_

"_More for me then!", I take her glass and down that one too. Seeing the stares I've earned, I looks down, "Sorry, nerves…", they smile understanding what I meant. _

_Soon enough, small talk and banter worked its way to our table. Every 5 mins or so, I'd turn around to check if Noah was already in but always I'd be disappointed when it was just another couple coming or leaving. Everywhere, couples were eating and enjoying each other's company since it wasn't just any day but Valentine's Day. Obviously couple would be packing places like this one all around which made it quite unbearable to be alone._

_Clock struck 9 and yet no signs of Wesley. Of course, he probably saw my threat as just nothing but a bluff—since I always tend to threaten with nothing backing it. Pissed off didn't even begin to describe how I felt. Fucked as it sounds, I actually want the man to call and say that in he got into a freak accident or something because I was straight pissed. _

_Vibration of a phone was picked up by my keen ears and I tell it's owner to answer. He does and immediately smirks, "_Papa, estas mas que muerto_…", he says snickering_

_Whispering, "Who is it?", my friend mouths out 'Boyfriend' and I snatch the phone from the man's ear, "Where in fuck's name are you?", an elderly couple closest to us turns around with frowns and I mouth a 'sorry'_

"_Ya", he whines, "Best stop yellin' at me 'cus I'll leave your moody ass…"_

_Rage boils from head to toe, "It is fucking Valentine's Day, motherfucker. You serious? You wanna leave me alone AGAIN? WHERE ARE YOU?", I mutter dangerously into the cell phone_

"_Calm the fuck down! I'm outside…I'm leavin' fuck this shit.", he clicks and I bolt straight for the door_

* * *

><p><em>Finding him was the easiest thing to do as he was just leaning against a streetlight smoking a square. Getting to him, that was a mission since people still flooded the streets. Believe me though, when it comes to playing the bitchy girlfriend…I play it well.<em>

_Smacking the cig from his hand, I size him up which is pretty ridiculous since he's a head taller, "_Donde chingaos estabas? I been waiting on you for…TOO long! WHERE. WERE. YOU! Con quien estabas? EH!_",_ _subconsciously I've started to pushing him_

_Being that he hates my little scenes in public, he starts getting annoyed, "Stop makin' a fool outta me. If you gon' start your little shit…let's go home!"_

_Widening my eyes with complete anger, "Why are you so set on leaving or going home…huh?"_

"_I'm not in the mood for_ tus pinches_ shows!",_ _he states simply as he puts another square in his mouth ready to light it up_

_His lack of care upsets me, more than it should, my eyes start to water, "You've been ghosting in and out of the house for the past month…I actually thought you cared since YOU wanted a romantic dinner with me and YOU invited Ramses and Thalia.", motioning to my outfit, "I even got all dolled up just because you like it when I do…", wiping my tears, "Noah, it's fucking Valentine's Day…you're supposed to cheese it and tell—SHOW me how much you love me. BUT I guess you don't since you've done nothing but upset and—"_

_Dropping his cig, Noah pulls me into a hug and rubs circles on my back attempting to soothe me. Sweet as the gesture is and feels…a faint scent of women's perfume reaches my nostrils. No it isn't mine for it is cheap smelling perfume. "I'm sorry,_ mami. _Been so caught up and stressed…Let's go in and forget this bullshit.", he guides me to the restaurant/bar but yet I cannot let the smell go._

* * *

><p><em>Conversation is going good. Been about an hour or two since my man made his appearance and he was enjoying himself while I still let the perfume smell linger around my mind. My attention, however, is set on Ramses chatter about a drunken rumble he got himself into last week.<em>

_Walking over to us, a bartender named Monique asks us if we'd like to try her latest drink. Only, Noah takes one. If I didn't know better, this bitch was giving Noah the 'sex eyes'. Her cheap perfume flooded my nostrils and I immediately remembered the familiar scent having been on Noah's person_.

"Creo que ya le voy a decir, _Marleene.", whispers a nervous Thalia in my ear. A wide grin spreads on my face and I rub her knee for support. Lightly tapping on her beaus thigh, Thalia gets his attention,_ _"_Necesito decirte algo_…", she starts out with a crooked smile, "_Amor, e—"

"_Sorry babe but I need to say something too…", Thalia frowns slightly but nods, "Okay_, dame un _second.", Ramses stands up and claps his hands earning himself some attention from patrons, "Ehm…I need a moment of your attention, please.", people around raise their brows, including us, in confusion, "Thalia_, amor, _we've been going out since senior year. I swear, the day I saw you pass by…I was like_ _'Damn, that girl is fine'.",_ oh boy, he sounds like a tool_, _"Nunca pense_ that you were gonna end up meaning anything to me…maybe a fling…_nada mas. Pero,_ something about you made me care, even though I didn't want to. You're the first girl I ever cried in front of…first girl I actually loved—keep on loving not just because I wanted to get in your pants, but because you-you changed me. Changed _my mujeriego _ways…_Palabras _cannot describe all of this that I feel for you. Anywho, Thalia…amor…",_ _he takes her hand and gets on his knees, Thalia's eyes water, "Please don't break my heart…marry me.", he pulls out a tiny box and opens it to reveal a modest ring._

_An array of whistles and 'aws' resound around; I interlace my fingers with Noah's. If hearing about the baby caused jealousy in me…this does too. Always had I imagined myself being married to the man beside me. Actually, when we moved in together, I saw that as the first step. To this day, he hasn't mentioned marriage…which causes me sadness but I never tell him about it. _

_Instead of answering, Thalia kisses him passionately. Women all around the restaurant sniffle into their handkerchiefs, and 'aw' at the spectacle. Men, they wolf-whistle and applaud. Noah, he pats his friend of the back and I…I smile or at least try to. _

_The newly engaged couple smile at each other and the girl leans in to whisper something into the man's ear. Shocked, apparently, Ramses mouths something like 'Really' and Thalia nods weepy eyed and smiling. Her fiancé kisses her all around and jumps up striking a triumphant pose, "IMA BE A DADDY!"_

_Another roar of applauses for the couple of the moment. All of this gets to me and I excuse myself to the bathroom. Only there do I start crying against one of the sinks. _

* * *

><p><em>Lying atop Noah's rising and falling chest, hearing his heartbeat, staring off into the mirror atop our dresser after finishing off our grand finale to celebrate Valentine's Day, I realize that this is how I want to fall asleep every night. Not exactly having sex but in this man's arms. <em>

_Gathering some balls, I sit down and look him deeply in the eyes, "Baby, you ever gonna wife me?"_

_The question must've come as…I don't know…he just eyes me as if I'm crazy or something. Attempting to change the subject, he sits up and reaches over to his discarded pants, "I got you a lil' somethin'. Close your eyes, cutie.", he puts something on my lap, "Open."_

_Opening my eyes, I see a small jewelry box. My mind comes to the conclusion that it's THEE box. Holding in a shriek, I open it only to be grandly disappointed. Don't get me wrong, the thought put in is rather cute…but not what I'd expected. Gingerly touching the gold necklace with my name in cursive, I try my hardest not to cry. _

_Sliding off the bed, I walk over to the mirror, "You wanna help me put it on?", with a smirk Noah strolls over. _

_He puts it on me and hugs me nipping my ear,_ "Hermosa_. You're mine forever…maybe someday when I make enough at the shop…I'll throw you a badass wedding, babe. I love you." _

_My next question would've been about the bartender and the perfume but hearing his words made my thoughts disappear. Turning around, I kiss him and pace us back to the bed where he falls with me on top ready for another round before knocking out._

*end of flashback*

Clutching my bathrobe to keep it from flaying open, I observe the only gift I've kept from my ex. Like our relationship, the necklace was a fake. After a year it had turned into this weird mix of gold and silver or something. Tears blur my eyesight the more time I take staring at the cheap trinket. Memories flood my brain…memories that I know will take time to wash away.

Knocking on my door I hear and I wipe my eyes and look at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are puffy which'll give away that I'd been crying. The door opens revealing Phil with an apron around his waist.

Leaning against the doorframe, "I've cooked up lunch…you want some?", he begins. Since Colt's leave, I've decided to actually do things for myself and get out of bed. Things between Punk and me—we've been on more civil, speaking terms with moments of awkwardness. He eyeballs me and strolls over, "You've been crying…why?"

Feeling slightly uncomfortable and lying, "No…no. Just soap got into my eye and yeah…", _no use lying, durr_

He cocks an eyebrow, "Gimme the real story…c'mon now pretend I'm Colt or someone you can confide in."

Instinctively, my mind travels directly to Micks and Wes. The thought of them brings me to tears because both my confidants are gone…well, one in the actual sense. Phil realizes that his choice of words isn't exactly the best. Finding difficulty in how to handle a crying woman—especially a crying ex that he still has feeling for, he stumbles over words, "Shit, shit, shit…um, Mar…beautiful…I'm sorry.", he looks over to the door and then grabs my forearm, "Come here.", he brings me into him, crying and all.

Takes about a minute to recognize that my robe is open; my tears dry up and only short whimpers come from my throat. Phil has a good hold on me and probably doesn't notice. He whispers short apologies. "Phil…Phil…", he nods his response, "I'm fine, really. That just got me outta nowhere.", worrying that Maria will walk by, I whisper, "Release me… just close your eyes, please."

Reluctantly, he loosens up his hold and I wiggle out quickly tying my robe together. Noah's necklace drops to the floor in the process, "You can look."

Punk opens his eyes and notices the necklace on the floor. Picking it up, he hands it to me, "That the reason for the previous tears?"

"Noah gave it to me last Valentine's Day…", I whisper looking downwards.

"Oh... You miss—LOVE the motherfucker after all he's done to you? To Wes? To all of us?", he asks, his voice raising the more aggravated he gets

Never had I put thought to the man before the question but I know somewhere deep inside, he'll live on in me, "Gimme a break, we went out for 4yrs…I fell in love with the bastard.", something about Punk, of all people, asking aggravated me, "He scooped me up whe-when…", looking at Phil, I knew that he knew the rest of my sentence. Sighing, "I haven't been alone of this day for the past 4yrs of my life. Shit goes down and here I am…alone. I guess this damned necklace just brought back memories…", walking over to my dresser, I open it and throw the necklace in with high hopes of forgetting it.

Guilt is written all over Punk's face as he stands leaning over my mirror's dresser, "You're still in love with him, aren't you?", he asks in a deep whisper

My mouth feels tied, not knowing how to answer…or IF to even answer. _The truth, honesty? _"How can you stop loving somebody from one day to next?", something sadistic in me pops in the question, "If you left Maria…fo-for me…you wouldn't stop loving her, would you?", when the accused doesn't respond, I take it that he's guilty, "See, that's why you don't leave her…you love her. That's why I don't want to step in, Phil.", silence fills the room, "I'm ready for that lunch, Chef.", I announce with a fake smile that hopefully will tell Phil to forget about this.

As I stroll past him with the same smile, he turns around and voices his thoughts, "What about you, Marleene. You say that like you wouldn't yourself. Tell me, Judge Judy…theoretically, if you were in my shoes, would you be able to leave that son-of-a-bitch for me? After, we'd admitted our feelings for each other? Would you be able to leave that love for a first one?"

With so many factors in my situation, saying what I was about to say—it'd be considered untruth or not an actual answer, "You leave Maria for me after all of this?", my fake smile falters for a millisecond and on that note I leave for the kitchen, "Your amazing meal ain't gonna serve itself, Chef!"

* * *

><p>Upon my arrival into the kitchen, I'm taken aback at the scene. Maria and baby Eli are situated at the table. Not that I haven't seen Maria but Eli…different story. We're talking about a kid who I go to all costs to avoid. Seeing her gives me goosebumps. Caught between leaving and just bossing it out…I choose leaving but Maria catches me with her usual smile.<p>

"Hey.", she says nonchalantly

Yes, I've seen the woman but we haven't really talked so much even sat down for a meal, "Um…hey. What's the kid doing here?", I try my best to act cool

Rubbing Eli's cheek tenderly, "Can't just leave her alone while she's awake, can I?"

Feeling like a tool I mumble, "Oh yeah…"

Seeing that I'm still planted near the doorway, "Eli gonna hassle you? I can leave…just say so.", Maria starts getting up

"NO! No it's fine…I just need some time to get used to her being around me.", a scent of pancakes, eggs, and sausages is picked up by my nose; I walk over to the stove to see just what Chef Phil has come up with, "Breakfast for lunch? We at Denny's?", this makes me chuckle softly…_he would._

Faint knocking is picked up by my ears and I walk over to the living room just to check if I'm not just hearing things. A couple of swift knocks and it is confirmed that somebody's at the door. _Let it be a neighbor…somebody needs to clean the place. _"I'LL GET IT!", shouts Phil as he appears from the hallway. He grimaces at me and walks over to the door and opens it, "What's up?"

A delivery man, from a flower shop apparently, pushes an expensive looking bouquet of flowers into Phil's arms and asks for a signature. Annoyed by the dude's actions, Phil slams the door in his face.

Going over and smelling the fresh flowers, "Who they for?", I ask, "They're so beautiful.", Phil gazes longingly at me, "Phil. Who are they for?", I enunciate

Shaking himself, he picks around for a note, "It says 'for Marleene'.", he frowns slightly, "I'd say these are from Randall." _Why would he send me this shit?_

"Letmme see.", I snatch the note away from him and open it. It's what I read that shocks me the most. The expression on my face depicts it. It reads:

_Maria,_

_Look, this is a quick note. Sometime after you receive these flowers, I'll be in Chicago and THEN we'll talk it out. Please, please answer my calls/texts. I need to see you. I've left Angie…I'm done playing, Maria. I'm in love with you…sorry it took so long._

_-Dave_

"Why the face? Letmme see what corny, Valentine's crap the boy sent you.", he reaches for the note but I swat his hand. He looks annoyed and yet amused now, "Ooh, is it something steamy, huh?"

Maria appears, "What was—Oh my…", she walks over to the assortment with Eli in her grasp, "this is gorgeous! Mar, who sent it to you?"

Putting on a smile, "Oh just Dave."

"Dave?", inquires Phil with a raised brow, "They're Spata-ing it out for you?"

His girl slowly looks up at me with a look in her owl eyes that read 'They're for me, aren't they?'

* * *

><p>Here I am, finding myself stuck in a love triangle…or square: Phil emotionally cheating on his lovely girl Maria by loving me, and said girl cheating on him in every aspect with Dave. Tell me a year ago that this'd happen…I'd laugh and say that'd I'd forever be with Noah. Yeah…but things—paths change, and sometimes they collide, crash, meet-up—however you wanna put it.<p>

With eyebrows furrowed, and crossing his arms, "You know… what I said back at the cabaret that—that wasn't a suggestion…"

Taking my eyes off of Maria's retreating figure, "Wait what?", I'd honestly zoned him out

Seriousness etched all over his being, "I didn't actually mean that you should hooker about with Randall and Dave…"

Caught between laughing and bitching him out…I chose the latter, "Sweetie…oh boy.", catching my breath, "How the fuck am I, of ALL people, gonna even think about having a love affair with an about to be divorce but STILL married man; much less, a man who has a kid?"

Rubbing his chin pensively, "Last time I checked, you WERE going around for some change."

My mouth gapes open. I'm at a loss for words. "How…HOW are you gon' say that? I've been through so much…I-I've been bed-ridden for like 2 months. Haven't even done shit since Micks found out!", thinking on it, "Why do you even care?"

Now laughing himself, he closes the distance between us, squinting his eyes, "Maybe JUST maybe it's the fact that I'm in love with you, princess. Maybe THAT makes me care so much."

Smirking, "My oh my, why Phillip you're jealous.", _Idiota why you smirking? This is no good!_

Finding words, Phil caresses a side of my face, "And if I am?", the intensity of his gaze mesmerizes, throwing off my better judgment, he leans in ever so slowly and whispers against my lips, "Flatter yourself."

This throws me off and knocks me into my senses. I turn away, "Well don't be.", I walk away in the direction Maria went, taking the note Dave wrote in hand. _Why you being sucha good Samaritan all of the sudden?_

_It ain't wrong, Marleene. Technically, it wouldn't be cheating 'cus Maria HAS been…Eye for an eye? It ain't—SHUT UP. _Sometimes, I hate how I talk to myself or well, my conscience does…

* * *

><p>Noiselessly, I creep my way to Dom's room where Maria, Phil, and Eli stay. Stopping just outside the door, my ears pick up the audible sniffles of what I assume a caught-up Maria. Closing my eyes, I knock on the door to alert the woman to dry her tears if she has to and enter.<p>

With her back to me, Maria visibly trembles. Awkwardness eats me whole. I've never any other emotion of the woman other than pure joy and anger…never no tears. Scratching my arm, I speak up, "Um…you okay? You left all of the sudden and well yeah…", _Smooth!_

"Uh…yeah, just fine. Came here 'cus the doll fell asleep.", she responds with that weird laugh that isn't really a laugh, more like a sigh.

_Terrible liar. _Resisting the temptation of rolling my eyes, I walk over to the bed where teeny-tiny Eli lays sound asleep without a care in the world. Safe to say that I'd give anything to be in her place. Kneeling down by the edge, I watch the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest before gathering some valor and actually touching one of her miniature-sized hands. Simple as it is, I'm nervous that she'll cry out or something.

"What did he say?", speaks up Maria suddenly making me flinch

"What?"

Honey-blonde turns around and that's when I see her puffy, red, owl-eyes and a lazy expression, "We both know that those flowers are for me, Marleene. What did Dave want?"

Feeling a bit of attitude from the woman, I stand up and hand her the note, "Read for yourself.", THAT she does. Crossing my arms, I watch as her eyes scroll through the note. When I figure that she's done, I bring up the question, "Taking up the offer?"

Realizing that I've read her note, Maria gasps, "How-how did…?"

Not wanting to beat around the bush any longer, "Been knowing since the cabaret, dear. Just didn't want to put you out there…not my shit to tell.", _why don't you come out with it and say that everybody know? _"Not trying to be a bitch or anything but…I've come to believe that everybody knows about you two."

Covering her mouth, Maria's eyes gloss over with fresh tears. She paces about the room, "Oh my Jesus…I should've…fuck, fuck, fuck…"

Fatigue overpowers me from outta the blue so I sit pretzel-style on the floor observing the woman, "You in love him?"

Female yields, "Who?"

"Who came into mind first?"

Her gaze downcasts, "Dave."

"There's your answer…"

Like me, Maria plops down on the floor across from me. Moments pass by and we're both silent taking in life. One would think that sitting next to the girlfriend of the man who claims he loves you is weird and crazy…sitting next to her feel unearthly normal—like…we're both stuck in similar situations.

"We met back in '04…I was in the Diva Search contest—"

Knowing where this was going, "You don't have to tell me…that's all you."

She stares at me for a second and then at the wall, "I was thrilled to have been considered. Major thing to be observed by talent recruiters from the WWE. He and Randy were hosts so obviously we'd spend time together getting our scripts and all that good stuff. We'd hang by catering most of the time. He was…is…interesting. We'd chat about anything and everything. Guess we became close 'cus he asked me to dinner...", the female smiles slightly at the memory, "Through his nervousness, he ended up knocking over my drink…twice. It was rather cute…from there we just became something else.", playing with her nails, "His wife suspected something and well…we got lucky that I was sent off to OVW. We let it go for a while.", a miniature smile returns, "Met Phil and God, was he an ass. We'd go at it so much people would tell us to get a room and just get it over with…", she shakes her head chuckling under her breath

Feeling my heart chipping, "I-I really don't—"

"We weren't exclusive but I guess feelings get in the way and I fell in love with the dude…and I'd like to think he with me.", wringing her hands, "We moved in together. Funny, because he was never one to tell me about super personal shit; sure he'd mention his sister and nephew but nothing else about his family. Sometimes, if he'd actually fall asleep…I'd hear him mumble 'Marleene'."

This hits me like a wrecking ball. I turn to stare at her completely flabbergasted, "I-I di—I", nothing coherent travels out my mouth so she shuts me up

"I'd think it was his sister, the one in the psychiatric hospital, because that was the one thing of super confidential nature he mentioned to me…maybe a nightmare he was having or I don't know.", a phone vibrated somewhere but she ignores it, "Dave, dunno how, got my number and suggested we go out as friends…I said that it wouldn't hurt…I was all Phil's.", her hands begin to tremble, "Getting to the point, Phil finally comes home after visiting his sister for the first time in years. Trying to be a romantic, I cooked up some food, set up the dinner table all cute and stuff, threw on some cute clothes, and waited for him. He came home—we got dinner over with—um, we—while we…uh…ma-made love…he-he whispered 'Marleene'.", she turns to me with red eyes, "That's when I knew…Seeing how he looked, looks, took care of, take cares of you…confirmed, confirms it."

Inarticulately, I try to convey…say the right words but in the end it's all just babbling, "Maria I-I…we never di—I'm sorry I-I hone—"

Raising a hand, "I'm not as naïve as I seem, Mar. When I knew your name…it was like 'Game Over'. I don't blame him, really. You're beautiful and the way he'd tell me about you…he's in love—like in the full sense.", a single tear streams down his face, "I tried so hard not to notice. I-I was, AM, in love with him…I tried so bad to hate your guts but couldn't. Dave came back into the picture and well confused things.", sighing, "As for you and Phil…I know you guys haven't done stuff—that's not Phil. Also, I've heard you deny him and the like…", she takes hold of my hand, "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I'm the only one that messed up: I cheated in the full sense. I-I just need one favor."

"G-Go ahead."

"I'm going to meet up with Dave…I know it's wrong to ask but…keep Phil busy, I'm telling him that I need air or something. Take of my little girl.", she turns around to touch Eli, "Please?"

Only seemed right, after this coming undone…the least I could do. I nod and that's when Maria breaks down. I hold her as she lets out all that she has kept in. The one person I came to believe was alright after all of this, one who I believed needed no attention…she came undone. I, myself, feel for her. Love triagles, squares—SHAPES…always end with people hurt…but, this is just the falling—the beginning of the end of this affair.

The door opens, "You ladies actually made me go Bobby Flay for…not—", Phil's eyes travel from me to his girlfriend, "What's going on and should I be scared?"


	46. Chapter 46

**A/N- **Long chapter. Insight to more of Marleene's issue with little Eli…and a dirty secret!

I still think 'Day 74' is going to be a couple parts long…not sure.

CHAPTER 48

**Day 74: **_**Part 3**_

Wiping away her tears, Phil's girlfriend stands up, smoothes her dress and sends me a warning stare, "Phil, I'm taking off for the day.", she states simply

Phil leans against the doorframe and thinks on it for a second or two before responding, "Um…okay, I guess. Have a nice trip to wherever, Ria."

Pretending to be her usual cheery self, Maria smiles, walks over to him, and plants a lingering kiss on his cheek, "I'll see you.", she almost inconspicuously winces when he doesn't turn for a real kiss. She turns to me and says the same, "I'm leaving you guys in charge of the doll. If anything just call me up.", with that she heads on out to the living room, out the front door, and to her rental car. The engine revs and she's off…off to find her lover.

Now, figuring that I'll be alone with Phil, Eli, and myself—Micks doesn't count—I'm moderately nervous about how the day'll play out…it is, after all, just 2 in the afternoon.

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Silently picking at my pancakes, I pray that Eli will stay asleep…for the rest of the day. I still shake every damn time she starts to wail. Knowing how babies are, I highly doubt she'll even stay down long enough to finish my first meal of the day.

Downing the rest of his nasty ass Pepsi, Phillip reads one of his plentiful comics. I bet if I try to snatch it away…he'd bite my hand off, he's so into it. A flip of a page later, "I'm taking you girlies out today.", he says still looking at the comic book

My food barely makes it down my esophagus. _No way in hell am I leaving the house, I've barely left my own room! _The thought of going out makes me itch. I haven't set a foot out the door since Colt's leave. I guess I'm scared that by going out, Noah will come after me or find me. That or the fact that everywhere I'll go…I'll be reminded of Wesley. "No.", I whisper, thinking about these things make the house feel cold. I hug myself.

Still staring at the stupid comic, "Well, it's a damn good thing that this isn't a democratic decision."

"I can't."

Phil sneaks a peek at me and then his full attention is on me, "Why's that?"

Rubbing my arms, "I'm scared…don't you dare laugh."

He takes a second to notice how dead serious I am, "Okay…but why?"

It's taking me all my strength to not just fly back to my room. My feelings and thoughts are something I don't like to talk about much these days, "Noah…and I-I don't wanna go out and just be reminded that Wes ain't here anymore."

This silences the whole house. I continue to eat while Phil drifts off in deep thought. My attention returns to my food and then…a loud wail sounds through the house like an alarm which makes me drop my fork abruptly.

Blinking, Punk observes me, "Kid isn't gonna eat your face off, doll.", he says with a mini smirk but it quickly shapes into a gentle smile when he sees that I'm still tense. Phil comes around my side and extends a hand, I look at it, "C'mon, you'll be accompanied by a brave gentleman into the deep dark depths of the baby's room."

_Not that long ago, you were fine with the kid…what's this? _Internally shaking myself off, I roll my eyes at Punk but take his hand. As we make our way out the door, he snatches up a plate of food for his beloved sister. Another long wail from a desperate baby and we get on moving.

Upon arriving in front of Dominick-now-Eli's room, Phil hesitantly releases my hand and instructs me to tend to the baby while he checks up on his sister. Reluctantly I enter the room where Eli has been crying for a couple of minutes. Taking a minute to take in my new surroundings, it feels like I've never been in this room before. Not that it has been transformed into a new room but some noticeable changes have been made. Changes like: the stuffed animals on one side of the room, baby-style chest, socks and bibs strewn all over, a pile of baby blankets, and the like. A type of longing rips through me by just seeing all these baby things. _You've always wanted one—don't even lie…_

Eli, her cries for attention unnerve me a tad bit; loud noises in general do. Creeping around to the bed where she lays, I sit down just close enough to be able to reach for her. Already I am having second thoughts on whether or not I should grab her. Her cries escalate by the second, making me all the more flustered, scratching my scalp, and with shaky hands I reach for her.

Being that I have yet to hold her, it's quite a milestone for me. Slowly rising from the bed, I cradle her in my arms slowly rocking her just like I did her older brother once-upon-a-time. Subsiding are her cries which become soft whimpers and then just a curious stare. In all the years I've grown to adore everything about Wesley Efrain Mendes, never have or rather HAD recognized just how shiny, how lively, vibrant his eyes were until…I saw his very own daughter's. As I gaze into Eli's little eyes I see Wes's reflection which was enough to make me stop trembling and feel some sort of warmth in my heart. A tiny, fragile hand extends toward one of my now-dry curls and I smile.

"He-hey babygirl…", I begin clearing my dry throat. Eli blinks, "you may not remember but I'm your aunt, Marleene.", another blink from the tiny human in my arms, "Yeah…you don't remember. I'm so-sorry, love…", slowly I descend to the floor, sitting Indian-style, "I got so wrapped up, baby. Wi-with your daddy passing…I-I don't know. Felt like if I saw you…I'd lose whatever is left of me. I-I'm sorry, love.", tears blur up my vision. Eli coos and mumbles as if trying to stop them from falling, this warms my heart, "Hope you can forgive me. Seeing you, now, makes me feel a bit better. Just wish your daddy could be here…", closing my eyes trying to avoid any more thoughts of Wes, "You really as obsessively cute as Maria makes you to be.", _Maria…_ "You like her, Eli? She's such a nice woman…I'm kinda jealous of her being so nice…", _that all she is? She practically gave her boyfriend to you…_ "Nice and so da—friggin' beautiful.", looking around the room I spot a picture of Eli's older brother who I haven't seen in the longest. Getting up, I gently place her down on the bed and bring back the picture and show her it, "You probably haven't met him…but this is your big bro, Dominick.", the baby attempts to reach for it.

Vibration in my robes pockets momentarily distracts me. Checking, I find that it's the one and only Dave Batista. _How'd he—RANDY…_ Flipping my phone open, I read a simple text message: _Has bby woken up yet?-Maria_

With a raised eyebrow I quickly reply: _Yes. We bonding. Dnt wry, txt you if n-e-thing._

Silencing my phone I return my full undivided attention to Micks's and Wes's lovechild. Seeing that she isn't going to be snoozing anytime soon, I drag over one of her stuffed animals, a lion plushy. Something about it catches my eye. I gingerly pet it and then remember why exactly. _Some things are supposed to stay in the past!_

Shutting my eyes tightly I will myself not to have a flashback, one that I don't need much less want at the moment. My hand clenches around the stuffed animal, Eli's coos zone out, and I'm back in that time…_fuck me, why?_

*flashback*

(June '99)

_Sucking in my excessive fat, I try to button my shorts…to no avail. Frustrated and breaking a sweat, I give up on the damned shorts…might as well go out in my undies! Sitting down I begin to regret ever going on those muchies binges with Mike. _

_Footsteps creak against the old stairway and I quickly attempt to button the damned shorts again. Uncle Vidal appears in the doorway, "Marley, te tardas un chingo…Your boyfriend or whatever te esta esperando!"_

_Rolling my eyes at the fact that he considers Mike my "boyfriend", I ignore him and continue to force the button and I succeeded. With a "whew", I sit down to put on my socks and then my shorts burst open and off goes the button flying all over the room, "HEADS UP, TIO!", I shriek covering my head._

_When the coast is clear, Uncle V stomps over to one of my drawers and pulls out one of my least favorite shorts. He throws them my way, "Here. Now hurry.", he says not leaving any room for an argument._

_Grimacing at the khaki shorts with an elastic waistband, I huff out a breath and put them on. Looking at my reflection, I take hold of just how fat I've gotten. My cheeks, thighs, and stomach have gained some weight. This does nothing to help my self-confidence whatsoever. Touching up my makeup, I remove myself from the mirror and grab my socks and Doc Martens and head downstairs. _

"…_It's okay muchacho, it's okay…", says Uncle Vidal patting a sniffling Mike's back. _

"_Tio, is he REALLY crying because of Mufasa dying?", asks my youngest sister Caro_

"_YES! __NO SE RIA, MUCHACHA!", booms my uncle, wiping at his eyes_

_Confusedly, I stroll over to what exactly is up. Standing behind the couch where my "friend", Mike, is sitting, I see that they are watching "The Lion King". Looking from my teary-eyed uncle to a sniffling Mike to my brooding sister, I roll my eyes, "Aren't you two…", meaning Uncle and Mike, "too old for this movie?"_

"_NEVER TOO OLD FOR DISNEY!", declares Mike_

"_I agree!", adds Uncle_

_Lifting up my feet, I put on both my socks. Doing this tires me out. Going over to sit next to Mike, I start putting on my Doc Martens, "You think you can lace 'em up, crybaby?"_

_Mike turns to me and nods. I notice his eyes are red, not just from being teary-eyed, and shake my head at his audacity to come in my house, where my family is like THAT. He slaps my other leg and I prop it up on his knee. Moving away from being angry, I pay more attention to the fact that he cried during the Mufasa part. I figure that it's the simple fact that his own parent died. My heart sinks for having made fun of him but then he speaks up, "Alright, sugar…Good to go."_

_Snapping out of it, I stand up feeling slightly woozy and walk over to my very entertained uncle, "Ayo, Tio…you mind sending a 20 my way?"_

"_What I look like?"_

"_Well, since the old man's at work…a source of income?"_

_Snorting, he reaches into his back pocket and takes out his wallet, "Only cus you're one of my favorite nieces…", he stuffs a 50 into my pocket_

"_You mean, I AM you're favorite niece?", I kiss his temple, "Thanks, Tio."_

"_Yeah, yeah…letmme watch this movie now.", he says shooing us off. Before walking out the door he yells, "BOY! Don't do something you'll regret if I find out! Don't come back late!"_

_With that in mind we dip out._

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_Every time Mike thrusts into me making rock instead of feeling pure bliss and pleasure, I feel nauseous. He doesn't notice. All that goes through his mind is his primitive need to hold me down and hump me until he comes. Another thrust and I can take it no longer. The food we ate prior to ending up in this position feels like it's traveling up my esophagus._

_Quickly I push Mike off mid thrust and scurry into the bathroom. Deciding between the sink and toilet, I choose the toilet. I lean over it, praying to God that these motherfuckers really do keep up with maintenance. A gag and out comes the contents of my stomach. Few more retches and I'm not even sure if I still have my stomach intact. Closing my eyes, I pull the handle and flush the toilet. _

"_You okay in there?", asks a rather annoyed Mike_

_Ignoring him I search for the complimentary shit motels usually give. To my luck, I find the tube of toothpaste, a cup, a fresh toothbrush. As I brush my teeth, I feel the need to regurgitate…again. This time I don't even remove myself from the sink. _

_The door pries open; Mike stands there fully naked with a lit cigarette hanging, "What's going on?"_

_Furrowing my brows together at the stupid ass question, "Oh no nothing I'm quite fine, actually…y'know, aside from throwing up my internal organs…peachy!"_

_Finding my annoyance amusing Mike chuckles, "Well I'm glad.", he runs and jumps back on the bed, "You ready for another round?"_

_Just mentioning that makes my stomach church. Not feeling up to it, "You got some weed instead?"_

_Groaning, "You're rolling this time, Mar.", I stand near the doorframe and search for his discarded pants, "They're by the door."_

"_Right, what type you get this time?", I ask as I rummage through his jeans, "I don't want no reggie…"_

_Finding the weed, I stand up and observe the contents of the small baggy. No, it isn't reggie—so whatever it is will do the job. Creaking of the bed lets me know Mr. Brooks is probably heading over to the two-person table. _

_Distinct hands grab my hips and a manly body presses behind me, "You DO know you're going to have to work for that, right?", says a breathy whisper in my ear which turns me on like a faucet, I shake my head in defiance, "Yeah, you will…", a slap to my ass lets a whimper-like moan escape my mouth_

_Mike pushes me up against the nearest wall and does me from behind. I oblige not really caring whether I'll feel nauseous or not…I really want that blunt—and hell, a little pleasure doesn't hurt._

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_Swinging my legs over the side of the chair, I inhale a drag of the blunt I rolled for myself while my fuck buddy relaxes to his leaning against the bed. We haven't really said much. Mike is pretty thought ridden which is not normal, but I don't put much thought on it. _

"_You ain't knocked up, are you?", he asks out of the blue_

_Looking at him through my legs, "Why you ask?"_

_He lets out a puff, "I've seen shit like this before…like at school…"_

_Raising an eyebrow, "Explain yourself…"_

"_I mean…you've gotten bigger…and that throwing up episode…not to mention how fast you tire out...seems funky…"_

_Feeling slightly offended, "Maybe I'm just getting bigger 'cus we eat like pigs with our muchie-cravings!"_

_Mike laughs for awhile, "Not even like that…I just hope you ain't trying to settle me down…free birding it…no time for kids"_

_Inhaling once more, "Not like I can get knocked up. I've tol' you before…irregular periods! Plus, my fuckin' uterus must be hostile with all these drugs…and sex…"_

_Slumping on to his elbow, not looking fully convinced, "Best hope…I don't need kids…"_

_Rolling my eyes, finishing my blunt, I stand up and seductively sway my hips as I make my to the bathroom, "No worries…I'm heading for a shower before we meet up the group…you in?"_

_Putting out his blunt, "Don't even gotta ask…"_

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_(Late August '99)_

_Although only 2 months have passed by, I've come to the realization that I'm knocked up. Cliché as it sounds, my getting fat and nausea, amongst other things, has set off alarms. Huge difference between being pregnant and simply being fat it…the fact that the uterus doesn't harden or inflate. My belly isn't pudgy, it's hard. My tits have become more sensitive…like everything about me has a different feel._

_Being that if I'm in fact, knocked up, my kid has probably been affected by my lousy lifestyle. Making me all the more worried about what I'm going to do. Who knows how far along I am. Normally, I'd just track my last period but even then I don't remember. I've been doing weed, some crack, and not to forget—drinking. Nobody knows, not even Wes or Micks. _

_Watching Mike roll up a joint, I become tenser and tenser. I called him up for a simple fuck and smoke but in reality, my intentions were to tell him of my suspicions. As he starts rolling up, he looks up at, "You're quiet…"_

_Jumping slightly, "Oh…just thinking…"_

"_About…?"_

_Playing with my nails, feeling a sweat coming on…pressure from every angle, I blurt it out, "I think I'm pregnant!", I cover my mouth with my hands_

_Mike stares at me, blinks, and laughs, "Nice one…here, you can have the fir—"_

"_Not playing…", I whisper_

_His playful smile disappears, "What do you mean by 'not playing'?", he asks setting his jaw_

_The air feels thick and my lungs lack the ability to take it in, "I-I think I am…look touch my stomach…"_

_Standing up, I go over to his side and grasp his hand. He flinches away, "I knew it…I KNEW IT!", he says standing up suddenly, "You planned this, didn't you?"_

_Eyes wide and confused, "Wha-What? I didn't even know myself until I-I thought about it ye-yesterday!"_

_Mike's eyes wild and showing rage, "Sure you did. This is what you wanted! You're scared I'll dump you li-like PHIL—SO YOU DO THIS!"_

_My hand connects with his cheek, "Don't. Mention. Him.", I growl, "Never did I want a kid—much less when I'm a kid myself!", taking the upper-hand I push Mike, "MUCH LESS FROM A LOW-LIFE JUNKIE LIKE YOU!"_

_The boy in full rage, takes hold of my wrists and puts immense pressure on them, "BUT YOU DID LET THIS BASTARD FUCK THE SHIT OUT OF YOU…RAW, DIDN'T YOU?", spits out shaking me to make a point, "No worries, Mike…I'm an irregular…my uterus is too hostile...", he says mocking me, "HOW FUCKING DUMB WAS I TO HAVE BELIEVED THAT LOAD!", he pushes me to the floor, "This…this…this is yo-your fault!"_

_Scared and all, I find it in me to voice my own thoughts, "No, no…takes two to make one fucking baby!"_

_Faster than I can recount, Mike squeezes his hand around my throat, "If you know what's best…abort that damned bastard…y'hear? ABORT…don't even come lookin' for me anymore…", another squeeze and he lets go. Bills fly over me, "Take care of it."_

_Laying there, I lay emotionless until I hear the door slam close. Only when he's out of hearing distance do I begin to cry. Cry because I'm way above being fucked. Cry because I am not ready to mother another human—hell, I wouldn't even know how. Cry because my mind cannot, will not wrap itself around abortion…killing a poor, defenseless, faultless, life._

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(Week later)

_Paying the taxi driver, I step out into the frigidness of inner-city Chicago. My mind is dull and bleak. Clear as a slate as I eye the Near North Center or better known as the Planned Parenthood Center. I take a short walk there. In the distance, I see a playground full of young kids who play and laugh without a care in the world. I am still considered a child myself. Even though I'm 15 going on to 16, tomorrow's my birthday. Tomorrow, I'll be living child-free. _

_Keeping the direction of the clinic, I rub my barely noticeable tummy. Silently I talk to my child. Apologizing endlessly to him or her and telling her/him how better off she/he'll be up with Jesus and his/her Auntie Fannie. Though the growing child in my womb might not be able to even understand, it's the best I can do—for myself at least._

_Mike dipped out of town as soon as he left the motel room. His family called me up asking for his whereabouts and all I could say was 'I don't know'. I don't blame him for bailing out on me. We were just fuck buddies…friends, perhaps but nothing more. The only regret I do have is not having been more cautious because now…I'm left alone having to dispose of this faultless child as if it was just a piece of trash._

_The wind picks up and leaves scatter all over. People pass me by some old, others young, some with children, others with dogs, but one thing is sure—they all look at me with disgrace. All know my intentions. All judge me as another slutty, Mexican, teen who couldn't help but keep her legs closed—I don't blame 'em…it's true to an extent._

_Reaching the clinic, grabbing the door as a pregnant woman passes, she smiles at me and says, "It's a little girl", the ecstatic woman rubs her belly loving_

_Tears appear in my line of vision, "Congrats, miss."_

_She pats my shoulder, "You goin' in for your ultrasound?"_

_Smiling, I nod my head,"Nervous…"_

"_Don't worry, girl…you'll be fine.", she starts wobbling away, "Good luck!"_

_Rubbing my tummy, tears drip, "I'm sorry…", I whisper_

*end of flashback*

Crying uncontrollably, I feel long forgotten guilt ebb away at me. Time has elapsed and Eli cries for my attention. I don't even have the heart to look at her, much less touch her. _You did what was best…_ I shake my head and continue to cry. Reason number one why I always settled for no kids; another reason for not wanting to hear or know of Eli. _How'd you do it for Dom then?_ I took the boy as my own…treated him like my own son.

The door opens and I don't even bother to hide my tears. Punk steps through, "I thought you had thi—", he sees my tears, "What's wrong?", he strolls over to tend to the baby first.

After she's done with, I've refrained from crying seeing that she's gone under, again. "Beautiful…", whispers Phil

I look away from him and furiously wipe my tears, _it's my fault…you SHOULD hate yourself, Mar..., _"I can't hold her…can't look at her…I-I need to leave…", he retrains me

Phil crouches and places both hands, holding my face, "Hey…hey…tell me what's wrong…", the sincerity in his eyes…TLC in them, in his gesture make me angrier with myself.

"You shouldn't care or feel anything but repulsion for me, Phil…", I whisper

He stares at me as if I'm crazy, which I kind of am, "Well sorry to disappoint but that's next to impossible…", he says with a gentle, lopsided smile as he wipes my tears

Closing my eyes, I shake my head, "I've done so many horrible things…you shouldn't…"

"I have my faults…my past too…Nobody's perfect…"

"No…Phil…", I reply louder than I expected to sound, "You're too good for me…", his eyebrows furrow and I caress his face, "what I've done…it's unforgiveable to anyone…", another confused look, "I-I killed my baby, Phil…your niece or nephew…I DID…", tears stream down my face, "DON'T LOVE ME…I'M A HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE PERSON…DON'T…DO—"

All the man does is embrace me as I let out my pent-up, pushed away emotions. He rubs circles along my back. "We all have our past, beautiful…We do shit that seems right in the moment…I know I've done shit I'm not too proud of too, beautiful…Nothing's going to push me away…so stop trying to scare me…I'm in love with you—everything that there is to you…Talk to me let me in, you'll feel better…let me in…",


	47. Chapter 47

**A/N- **Repost, strongly believe that my next chapter should be a part of THIS chapter. Part of my master plan of getting back on track. Patience, dears!

CHAPTER 49

**Day 74: **_**Part 4**_

Letting people in isn't easy at all…nope, never. When you let'em in, you give them access to the very things that could very well destroy you. Practically give them a gun and hope they don't use it to shoot you.

Punk wants in. I'd let him in, I really would. Really. Just one thing: letting him would require giving him my entire heart...all of me. As strongly as I feel for him…I can't. My heart is far too beaten up, too used up to be given up once more. He didn't do anything, but the man—boy—before him DID. Like I said before, Punk would want more than I'd be able to give…he'd say different BUT I know he would. Aside from that, he's taken. Sure his girlfriend is cheating but two wrongs don't make a right. I sound like a broken record, I know, but I can't—won't get involved with a taken man. Great contradiction since I've slept with men who have wives and shit BUT that was business, strictly. _EXCUSES…_

A groan resounds from the man's throat. He's tired of waiting on me—asking me. His arms untangle themselves from me, "One thing at a time…", he says. Whether he says it trying to convince me or himself…I don't know.

The man tiredly gets up and walks over to his tiny niece and picks her up…she doesn't wake. Sound asleep—_she's a heavy sleeper like her pops. _This observation upsets me just a bit more; enough that I get up and start making my way hurriedly out the door.

"I hope you're on your way to get dressed…we're going to visit Dominick.", my eyes widen with a jolt of happiness, yes for once. I turn around to make sure that he isn't just fucking with me, "I know you've been missing him…", he smiles warmly

Of course I've missed him...it has been 2 months since I've seen the little man! His cheerfulness and ability to brighten up my day is much needed. Hell, I'm now more than willing to leave my safe, my comfort zone if it means seeing him. Tears already falling and a smile, really, a smile threatening to makes its way across my face, "Put down the baby.", Phil raises an eyebrow, looking at me as if I've gone mad, "Put her down…"

"Okay…?", he gently sets her on her makeshift bed and slides over a couple inches, "What are you go—UMPH!", before he can even finish his sentence I smash myself into his body. It takes him a moment to react. "Did you take something before I came in?", he asks with a slight hint of suspicion in his tone

No longer fighting my smile, I pull myself away and wipe away my tears, "I-I'm just…Thank you. You don't know how much I need the little man…", my eyes travel from his eyes and his lips

"Well, you're very welcome, beautiful…anything to make you smile.", he like me is thinking the same…he leans in closer, "Almost forgot how unearthly beautiful you look when you smile…"

This time it's me that completes the 10%. My eyes close and mind shuts off for the moment. The simplistic sensation of giving and feeling affection is enough to make me forget about everything. It's just him and I; his soft lips and my docile ones. A slippery intruder enters my mouth and this sets off my alarm. Eyes open, I unhook my arms that subconsciously made their way around Punk's neck, and wiggle out his grasp.

Clearing my throat, "Thanks…Ima go get ready…and…yeah…", I say trying my best not to sound like a mumbling idiot

"Yeah…", is all a still dazed Phil says

Backing away, I nod my head. Feeling the door, I turn around a walk away quickly to my room.

* * *

><p>Closing the door to my room, I begin to pace around. <em>You shouldn't really feel guilty. <em>I shouldn't but I do. Especially after the whole 'Let me in' deal…this'll give him hopes or something. _You can't keep on denying…Maria practically let you go for it. _That's just it. She flew off to meet up and make-up with Dave. Only thing is that while she is cheating, facts are facts: she loves Phil and he loves her. I've promised myself to never do to a woman what _he_ had done to me. _The field is open though…_I can't do it. This is just a slip up.

Pacing over to my drawer, my hands dig around for a pair of panties and bra. My lips curve up when I spot a matching set of boyshorts and bra in the theme of Pokeballs. _Fucking Wes..._ Last, last, year we'd done Secret Santa and he'd gotten them because of Bree. I hold the undergarments to my chest. _Boy, I miss you._ Walking to my bed, I undo my robe and throw on the undergarments. My arms still sore out every now and then…and now is one of those times. Ignoring the soreness in my limbs, I stroll over to find some clothes. My happyass hasn't worn anything other than loose shirt, tanktops, and a robe in a while.

After trying on about 10 different shirts and a couple of my favorite jeans it blows up in my face just how much I've let myself go. The shirts fit tightly which is quite unflattering since my stomach isn't as flat anymore. Don't ask me about the jeans. Already hard enough to find jeans that I can afford but it's another thing to find jeans that do my thighs and butt justice! Leaning over my dresser I try my best not to cry over something so stupid because compared to everything else this is just dumb as fuck.

Exhaling, I scrounge around for a loose-fitting tee. First thing that pops out is a Misfits tee, ode to joy. Shrugging, on it goes without another though. My hair is messed up already—no point in trying to look cute. Lazily dragging myself to a pile of jeans, I look for the black jeans Wes had bought me the day I came home…y'know from the Suicide Watch thing. Eventually I find them and get on with doing my make-up so Mama Rosa will actually believe that I'm getting better and Dom won't be as horrified.

Onceover after onceover, I still can't get over the fact that I've let myself go this much. Maybe I'm just exaggerating but…I feel bloated as hell. Perhaps I'm not even a size 9 anymore! _You've got bigger things to worry about. _Maybe Phil feels pity for me…why would he want a slob when he has a gorgeous girlfriend? _Thought you didn't care? _Turning my attention, I put on my socks and trusty Jordans and head out.

Finding Phil in the living room with Eli in his hold makes me realize that I'll have to share a 25min ride with her. Earlier, I'd thought that I was okay with her but no. Holding her, hearing her, SEEING her makes me feel guilty. Phil stands up when he sees that I'm ready.

"I'm digging the shirt.", he says with a smirk

Rolling my eyes, "I bet you do.", returning my focus to the baby in his arms, "So, how exactly are we getting over there?"

"Car, sweetheart."

Biting my lip, "Am I gonna have to hold her? I can drive…so…?"

Shaking his head, "No can do, beautiful. You really need to let go and stop being cold to the kid. She needs some lovin'.", he says with puppydog eyes. _You're the teacher and Dom's the student, I see._

Looking off to the side, "I'm already fighting my fears by going out…"

"Pout all you want but no way in hell am I letting you drive. Wes'd kill me for letting you wreck his ride.", I wince at 'Wes' and 'kill'…it's still too early for that.

Sighing, "I'm doing this for Wes's sake…", I take Eli from him, "Be a doll and give a blanket to cover the kid with."

* * *

><p>Switching between looking out the window and Eli, I find it hard. May not be much to look at but everywhere there's a memory of my main man. From the sidewalks to being in his car, this feeling of despair rises as seconds pass by. Just when I start to believe that I'm getting over it…I find that I've just been fooling myself. 2months isn't enough to rid of the sadness. Shit, it took me years to finally get over Fannie! Death ain't easy to cope with. Though we say it wasn't a goodbye it definitely isn't a 'I'll see you soon.', "God, I miss you Wes…", I whisper as I look down at his sleeping daughter<p>

Punk's hand snakes onto my knee, gently rubbing it, "Gotta keep on moving forward, beautiful."

Fury rises in me. It consumes me. Though somewhere in the back of my mind I know he means well and Wes was his dude too…his trying to be emotionless about the whole thing infuriates me. Men always try to hide their feelings…I do too but this is something that is way above being able to hide away. "How do you do it?", I ask without second thinking

Coming to a slow stop at the yellow light, he turns to look at me with a confused smile, "How do I do what?"

"How do you keep so strong? How do you not feel anything? Is an act? I don't care just tell me how…how be-because I wanna be strong…", fresh tears stream down my face, "I-I don't want to keep depending on you when I know I don't deserve your help…I've lost so much: Fannie, Wesley, Mick, and hell, even Noah. 2 months have passed by…I don't do anything, I let myself go. I-I can't even look at this baby without feeling like shit. My life seems so bleak and pointless. I try and try and try to be so strong and see the light of day—look how it has left me. I am a pathetic, rambling idiot with all this fucking crying—I can't stop it…So tell me, Phil…how do yo-you do it?", with all this crying I'm pretty surprised the baby in my arms hasn't woken up. Staring anywhere but at Phil or her, I feel naked like I've said too much—which I haven't really, not at all.

A car behind us honks obnoxiously which snaps Phil out of his momentary daze. The muscle car begins to move along. Sucking in my tears, I peek at Phil since he hasn't responded…the man grips the steering wheel as if it were a lifejacket, biting on his piercing—_you're not only one dealing with Wes's death…_

* * *

><p>Putting myself together, gathering Eli in a tight bundle, I step out of the car and into the cold street in front of my old residence. Memories of years past come back and hit me like a brick. <em>Nothing is ever going to be same. <em>Though all is bright and sun-shiny, my POV is different.

Punk ignores me and hurries in front of me towards the doors. I follow along trying to think of happy things so Dominick and Mama Rosa will mark me off as okay. Eli stirs in my arms but remain asleep. Approaching the door, Phil rapidly turns around, almost knocking me over if not for his grip on my shoulders.

I gasp, "What's wrong with you?", I ask really ticked off

"You think I really am that heartless? That Wesley, my brother, being long gone doesn't affect me?", he asks with a semi-crazed look in his eye that scares me. I'm too surprised to even come up with words to answer, "You want me to drop everything and do what I really want to do which is fucking kill that bastard that took him away? Marleene, I'm on my own trying to take care of my little sister…trying to keep her with me because she's all I got. I'd like to think I take care of you…I don't mind, not at all. Maybe I'm an idiot for loving someone so selfish BUT you know what? I don't care. You think I haven't lost anything? Check again. My mom, my fucking sister, Wes, and I am on the verge of losing my youngest sister.", the tears that flow down his cheeks make this all surreal

"I-I uh…", my mouth opens but nothing really comes out

"How do I do it? Call me a corny fucker but YOU, you keep me going…Marleene, it's you. Knowing that you're alive and breathing is enough for me, keeps me sane. I-I don't even know if that's enough an answer for—"

Embracing him, "Stop…I'm so sorry.", all CAN say. All that can be said. Seeing this, the breakdown of the man who has taken it upon himself to take care of everybody and leave himself out...I am just speechless and confused. My heart goes out to him. _Stop isolating yourself…let him in. You two need each other…_ "C'mon, Little Man awaits us…"

Phil shakes his head, hugging me tighter, "He can wait a little more…I wanna milk this moment for what it's worth…"

I manage the tiniest of chuckles, "We're bipolar as hell…we're messed up, you know?"

"And I'm pretty and you're cute…together we'd be pretty cute.", he says through sniffles

Laughter consumes me. That probably isn't funny at all but seeing how messed up we really are…is. One moment arguing, another kissing, another mad, another confessing—we're messed up. Laughter becomes guilt and then tears. Phil hugs me as if the world were about to explode, "Let it out, beautiful…I miss him too.", he says as he cries.

"Y-you make keeping you out difficult with everything you do, Punk…"

* * *

><p>"Any day now, beautiful…", says Punk lazily<p>

Rolling my eyes, I flick him off without even turning around. I'd been standing in front of Mama Rosa's door for the past 10mins. Every time I'm ready to face her and Dominick…I chicken out. As hard as I try to look moderately normal, Rosa ain't halfway near dumb…she'll know whassup. Quite frankly, I don't have the heart to let her see me at my lowest. A couple of months ago she helped me learn to fly again and to come crashing, again? No, can't do it. Aside from her, Dom has been kicked out of his own home without explanation other than 'Mommy and Auntie are sick'. He needs one of the important women in his life to at least be well and strong. Rubbing my temples, I turn to face Punk only to see the door to my old hellhole.

"Hey, hey…focus forward, Mar.", commands Punk noticing the sudden panic in my eyes.

Doing as he says, I take a deep breath and knock on the door. Something in me seriously hopes that the woman is out and about with her husband and of course my nephew. Muffled voices can be heard behind the door. _Of course…_

The door opens and it's Mama Rosa with her back turned, "_Muchacho, vale mas que te metas a esa pinche tina, apestas!_", _Oh Jesus…this woman…_

Managing a laugh, I clear my throat, "Well hello to you too!"

Jumping a little, Rosa turns around clutching her heart, "You trying to give me a heartattack, muchacha?", she pulls me into a tight hug, "I've missed you so…"

Feeling as though I'd breakdown right there and then, "_Mama, calmate…alli esta el hermano de ya-sabes-quien_."

Scoffing, "_Y a mi que_?", she pulls away to observe me and frowns a fraction, "_Para mi que no andas bien_…", she says with a raised brow. _So much for trying…_

Smiling nervously, I bring forth Phil with the munchkin in arms, "Mama…you remember Phil, right? Well this is McKenzie's little girl, Eli…"

Rosa glares at me but smiles at the pair, "Phillip it's nice to see you once again, come in.", she moves aside to let us in, "Now letmme see that little _angelito_!"

"Mama Rosa, I'm ready!", shouts a squeaky voice. One that I know all too well. My heart beats quickly in my chest and a big ol' cheesy smile appears on my face.

"Stop your shoutin'! Come here, we've got visitors!", yells Mama Rosa

"But…I wanna be out so I can see Spongebob!", whines my little nephew as he stomps over, "Can't I jus—", as soon as he sees us in his view, his mouth drops. He rubs his eyes, "Uncle Phil? Auntie Marley?", he creeps closer with caution, "AUNTIE MARLEY!", he makes a dash for it. For a second I believe he runs for Phil but he runs in my direction. I drop to my knees and embrace him as he crashes into me.

Countless times I've said that I hated kids; that they are devil spawns and such. This short, puny 4yr old is the exception. He is MY light in the middle of darkness. He is MY happiness in human form. Dominick has kept me going even through the toughest of times; was and still is my motivation.

Sobs rack his entire body as I plant kisses atop his head. My maternal instincts kick in and I hold him even closer, "Auntie…I mi-mi-missed you so much.", he sobs, "Thought y-you were still ma-mad at me…tha-that's why Uncle Phil left me here…"

"Never, baby. Don't you be thinking that.", I sigh, "I just…Your mommy and I needed some alone time."

Little Man pulls away from me and sniffles, "Because of Wesley?"

"Yeah. We…um…we just didn't know how to feel anymore. He was our bestfriend, you know that. We didn't want you to be as sad as us, _hijo_.", I bite my lip hoping that my eyes stop watering at the mention of his name

Dominick hugs me once more, "Rosa said that we'll see him again…in heaven. Don't be sad, Auntie."

_Heaven is a long time away… _I nod my head at the boy's words of consolation. I stop myself from crying, my tears were released outside already. "I know, I know."

"I love you, Auntie."

"I love you even more."

"Who's loving ME?", pipes Phil from his spot on the couch, "Last time I checked, I was YOUR favorite, Champ."

Dominick giggles and let go of me, "Uncle, I told you to keep it a secret!"

Dusting myself off as I stand, "I'm quite hurt, papi. You always told me that I am your favorite."

Playing with his fingers, Dominick giggles nervously, "You are, Auntie. BUT Uncle Phil is a guy and we stick together!"

Boy's words amuse me, really. Playfully rolling my eyes, "Well I guess, Eli is my favorite from now on."

McKenzie's firstborn stares at me with a confused look, "Who's Eli?"

"You getting Alzheimer's this early?", asks Phil, "I've told you about her…she's your sister, Champ.", he says uncovering the baby

Boy gasps and whispers to me, "Is that really _her_?", his tone of disbelief is adorable

Simply a nod and he carefully inches over to Phil. He sits next to him and observes the waking baby. Expecting her to lash out with her usual cries, I wince but nothing happens. I, myself, inch towards them and am surprised to see the lovechild observing her brother as he does her.

"She's pretty.", says Dom as he gently touches her cheek. When she blinks, he smiles, "Hi, I'm Dominick…your big brother.", this touches my heart.

Phil raises his gaze and smiles, a true one, "You know who else is kinda pretty when she smiles?", Dominick shakes his head, "Your Aunt…should tell'er to do that more often.", _what happened to the sarcastic Phil?_

"_Oye, muchacha_! Come help me out here in the kitchen!", calls out Mama Rosa

* * *

><p>Leaning against the entryway to the kitchen, "Yeah?"<p>

Mama Rosa stirs her pot of soup before rotating to face me, "Sit down.", she points to one of the stools

Scratching my neck, I oblige. Her seriousness tells me that what awaits me anything but pleasant. Sitting on the stool, "What's up?"

Wiping her hands on her petticoat, "What's up? WHAT'S UP? What's up is that you haven't answered my calls and that you and Micks kicked out the poor boy.", she say with a voice too calm for me not to be afraid

"I can explain—"

She signals for me not to go on, "No explanations. Look, I know you're not well. I'm thankful for that man taking it upon himself to care for you, but tell me…how are you after all of this? You look like you're going to breakdown at any second…_anda hija, dime_.", the woman hold my hands in hers and rubs them

I avert my face but even doing that, my lips tremble. God knows how much I've needed someone to drown my sorrows into. My lips part ready to produce words but only sobs come out of them. Rosa hugs me, like everybody seems to be doing these days. "I-I just want to go-go home to my family, Mama Rosa. _Ya no tengo a n-nadie_. Micks is in her own little world and Wes he-he is gone. Everybody else is irrelevant if those two are not with me."

Rosa pats my back. She drifts off momentarily to turn off the stove and comes back, "Karime, you can't stop living your life…"

"I'm trying my best to move on.", I mutter agitatedly, "It's difficult with this town reminding me of all my sorrows and shit. I-I need to get away."

Woman who I've come to know as a mother figure slowly shakes her head, "_Es TU vida, mami_. I cannot hold you back if that's what you really want. If you think it'll help you get better…go for it. Just know that there are people out here who still love and need you. Example, Dominick and the little angel: their _mama _isn't able to care for them…"

Wiping my tears, it escaped me that these children would be needing me. After all, Phil will probably be going off to Kentucky sooner or later, Maria she's…she's probably thinking of leaving too, McKenzie—that woman isn't stable, Mama Rosa and her husband are elderly, and I wouldn't have the heart to dump them with any of my people, "And that boy…Phil.", I hear the elderly woman say

"What about him?"

"_Esta pero BIEN enamorado_…"

"Who said?"

She glares at me as if I'm playing dumb, "Him. The way he talks to the boy about you…sarcastic, sarcastic but he's in love."

Pulling my hair, "How is it that he has been here?

"The mornings."

"Oh…well, I like him."

The woman smiles, "See, that's what I like to hear."

"We don't even know each other enough…"

"Let's do something. How about you forget _TODO_ if not for the rest of the day, yeah? Go out with him, spend some time getting to know each other, and just try, TRY to feel alive and happy. Can you do that?", she stares at me with hope

Scratching at my scalp, "Can't we just get back to talking about my depressed self? _Dijiste que querias saber de_—"

"STOP!", he raised voice makes me shrink in my seat, "I'm sure that I'm not the first that has told you this: everytime somebody wants to help you, lend you a hand…you—I-I dunno recoil and crawl back into your shell. Marleene Karime, jus-just stop being difficult and let yourself be helped—"

_You sound so much like Wesley…_"I need a smoke."

Woman sighs and digs around for a pack and lighter, "Emmy will snap if you finish it. Go outside on the patio.", she drops the items in my hands and shoos me

* * *

><p>"…then she was like 'Punk you're such a'…uh…she said a colorful word that isn't really PG, Champ—anyway, after she got up she hugged me and completely destroyed my jeans with all that mud. Man, those were my fuc—I mean, my favorite jeans.", recounts Phil as I walk by<p>

Dominick laughs, "Wow, Auntie Marley was bad."

My ears perk up, "Come again?"

"Just telling the kid about that one time I ACIDENTLY pushed you into the mud.", replies Phil with a lopsided smirk

I frown and continue out to the porch. Closing the slide-doors, a foot stops them. It's Phil. I roll my eyes and lean on the railing, lighting up the cancer stick, "I need some alone time, Punk."

He leans next to me, "You've had enough for the both of us, haven't you?"

A sideways glare, "Well then I'll have enough for Eli and whoever the fuck."

He smirks, "What ol' Rose say to get you all pissy?"

"The truth."

He whistles amusedly, "They DO say it hurts…"

"Another asshole-like comment and I won't refrain from sticking you square in the face."

"Well, I do like the badassy type."

Counting on a lowblow to get him away, "Maria is anything but 'badass'…she's safe, clean-cut…"

He chuckles off to the side, "Not safe enough, darling. She's out there…with Dave. That's pretty 'badass' for her.", I damn near choke on my puff. My eyes bug out. Straining to catch my breath, I drop my cigarette which Phil graciously stomps out, "Really, you could die just sucking on that exhaust and you still choose to risk it?"

"How-how'd you know?", I manage to croak out

He removes a dangling strand of hair from my face, "I like to consider myself observant and well—Hey, didn't you say you were here for the sport?"

Caught between asking about his knowledge of Maria's cheating and going along with his diversion, I chose going along, "Uh, uh…yeah but I-I got too much on my mind to even fake a smile or be normal…"

Punk thinks on it for a minute, "You hungry? 'Cus I'm starving…I'll treat you to a V-day dinner."

His spontaneity catches me off guard, "Uh…?"

"I'm not taking 'no' for an answer.", I still stare at him, "Not a date, just two old friends going out to catch up."

"Where would we leave Eli?"

"I think Rose would be up for it."

"I dunno, Punk."

Rolling his eyes, "Come on.", when he sees that I'm still undecided, he clutches his heart dramatically, "Oh, Mar, please…please do this for my kind YET battered soul. I only seek to spend some time with thee if for only a mo—"

Covering his mouth with my hand, "Okay, Romeo. No funny business though. You're still with Maria and I'm...I'm still trying to find the greener side of the grass."

"That makes two of us, beautiful.", he takes hold of my hand, "On the bright side, you got a handsome motherfucker to search with.", he grins cheesily

"Oh god...", I facepalm, "You're a douche.", shaking my hand out of his, "I'm going to tell Rosa about this...this NON-date"

"She knows!", he shouts as I pass by a half-asleep Dominick and grinning Rosa with Eli in arms

I mean mug Rosa, "Fucking set-up or what?", _stop it, you know you're digging this..._

'


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N- **So, I tried so badly to get it done yesterday BUT b-day plans prevented that…on the plus side, I'M ONE YEAR OLDER, WOO!

Anywho, this chapter is probs my best work in a while. I'm hoping Punk isn't too OOC. I know Day 74 is dragging on but...it's a special day for our little couple...next chapter will probs be the end of the day.

Read, review, follow?

CHAPTER 50

**Day 74: **_**Part 6**_

_Opening an eye, light hits me directly and I let out a groan. A few more breaths and I lazily lift my head to face the light of a new day. My head pulsates so I hold it up between my hands trying to regain full consciousness. _

_Strong sent of beer stinks up the air making it almost too toxic to breathe. That's when I realize that half my hair is damp with the stuff. Around me are bottles of Tecate, Patron, and Jose Cuervo some empty and other tipped over leaking drips. My brain yells at me for having drowned it with booze once more. My stomach complains too and turns over causing me to get up and run over to the sink. I retch over it but nothing comes out. Whatever is left of my brain deems it best that I hang around there. Sun burns my eyes and adds onto my headache. _

_A boisterous voice yells, "Honey, I'm home!", the sentence resonates in my head and I feel as though I might pass out. _

"_Wes-e you-YOU are such a fuggin…fuckin' dickhole…", whines a voice that makes me near jump out of my skin. I turn and find that it's just Wesley's roomie, Cher, who just happened to be knocked out cold under the table._

_My stomach flips over once more and out comes the contents of my very upset tummy. I feel like I've just had a baby through my mouth. My body crashes to ground and I just stay there. Footsteps creak along the floorboards, annoying the hell out of me, "Stop.", I whine_

"_What you, YA'LL, bitches get for gettin' shitfaced last night!", declares Wesley as he sets a grocery bag atop the counter, "Cher…", she doesn't respond, "Cher…", snores I can hear, "CHER!"_

_She shoots up, "WHA-WHAT?"_

"_Get up, get into the bathroom, shower, come out, and then you'll be getting alotta these damn fruits.", he commands. Cher groans but obliges, "Now, Mar…you, you just chill for a minute while I get the rest of those fuckers out my crib.", man leaves and I curl up in a ball and knock out _

* * *

><p><em>Sound of a rambling voice wakes me from my liquor infused coma and I find myself half-naked in a tub of lukewarm water. This really should bother me but all I wanna do is sink in. Somebody pours a container full of water on my head totally washing away any feeling of drowsiness, "WHO THE FU—Wes?"<em>

"_At your services.", he replies not in the least bit amused_

_Bringing my knees up to my chest in attempt to save myself some dignity, "We're bestfriends…remember?"_

_Smacking me with a wet towel, "Of course. Fuck you thinkin'? I'm just trynna fulfill my moral duty and clean your ass up. It's 4 in the p.m and you still reek of liquor, sugar."_

_Grumbling, "Ugh…what happened last night?"_

_He taps his chin, "Well, I threw a Valentine's Day party which you made into 'Fuck-Love Fest'. Everybody with enough booze in them was cryin' all over, includin' you. Somehow you and Cher ended up having a drunken heart-to-heart and well eventually crashed."_

_Wide-eyed, "I kiss or do anything that counts as cheating?"_

_Wes huffs, "Thought you 'were SO fucking done with that cheating bastard'"_

_Rolling my eyes and quickly regretting the action, "I know but I-I love him…he just messed up and I overreacted."_

_The man I grew up with, my bestfriend stares at me, blinks, and then shakes his head, "Girl…you gotta be shittin'. Fo'real. Take it from a dude who has played with chicks: we cheat once, we'll sure as hell cheat twice."_

_Dismissing his convincing, "You've been trying, failing but trying nonetheless, to convince me to leave Noah for the past 3 days that I've been living with you. Stop it, I love him. We're only human…we make mistakes."_

_Setting his jaw and exhaling, "Only 'cus I care 'bout you. Really, girl, leave that SOB…just because he's a highschool sweetie don't mean he's the only one."_

"_But he is, Wes. You don't have to like him or even agree with what I do…just stand by me. Be my main and stick by…Bestfriends 'till we…"_

"_6ft under, I know.", he looks at me deeply in the eye, "Just want to see you happy, lil' sis. Took long enough…"_

_I chuckle, "I am. Will be when the fucker comes around. You've gone soft, brotha'"_

_He splashes me, "Only 'cus I love your crazy ass.", he hands me a bar of soap, "Wash up 'cus you gotta get somethin' down."_

"_Of course, mother."_

* * *

><p>Slumped in my seat, looking out at the passing scenery, I find myself half-smiling at the memory. We had many of them, it seems. I been riding with Phil for about 15 mins and we arrive at a red light, "So I was thinking out maxing out at this burger joint off—"<p>

"I'm ready to put Wes to rest.", I blurt out

Phil's mouth hangs in midsentence. He clears his throat, "That's…that's quite a bold decision, Miss."

"I'm serious. I need this."

"Well shit, nothing's stopping you, woman.", he says. The light switches to green, "Where to, Cap'n?"

Tapping my chin, "Cemetery."

Phil raises a brow, "Now, I'm a huge horror fanatic but…cemeteries. I dunno something about them makes my balls tingle…and not in a good way."

I stare at him half disgusted and half amused, "This was meant to be a serious moment and now you just soiled it with your…your _tingling balls_."

"I'm just saying, gosh…acting like you're a saint and shit. I am so very sorry, _Sister _Marleene."

Scoffing, "You're unbelievable."

"Yeah, I've gotten that a couple times…'Oh Phil you were…unbelievable.'", the man actually sighs erotically

Inside I'm dying, outside I'm speechless, "Why…_Father_ Phil…I thought casual sex was against your beliefs!", I say incredulously

"Who says they were casuals, sweetheart? I've had girlfriends other than you and Maria.", he states

Internally, I'm frowning at this. Veering the now-lively conversation from it's course, "We're going to see Wesley and we're discussing _this_…"

Parking near a flower shop, "Trying to lighten up the air…trust me, it's gonna get hostile and gloomy once we arrive.", he opens his door and comes around my side, "Let's get the man some pretty flowers."

(15mins later)

Straight annoyed, I get into the car with a bouquet of my favorite colored roses. Phil gets in and turns on the engine. The man doesn't make a move to actually move the damn vehicle…just stares at me with a grand ol' smirk.

Sneering at him, "What?"

"Admit it."

"Admit what?"

"That you're jealous of the little miss that tried to hit on me.", he states with the stupid smirk

Sending him off, "I don't care. Not like you can do anything about that, Mr. _StraightEdge_.", I reply with a smirk of my own

He laughs, "Jesus, not only are you in denial but I see that you ARE indeed as stubborn as I remember."

"Glad that I'm entertaining, now if you could be a doll and drive. I'm not a big fan of being in cemeteries past sundown.", he makes to come up with a reply but I swiftly turn on the radio and on comes a song by my favorite band of all time, "Oh my god, I love this song! _I get by with a little help from my friends, I get high wi—"_

Phil dramatically bashes his head against the steering wheel, "You've got to be kidding me. I AM NOT LISTENING TO THAT. Seriously, how can they still be your favorite band? They're fucking overrated."

"As opposed to that death inducing music you listen to? Ain't nobody asking ya' to listen."

Brooding in his seat, "Because I love you I'm willing to sacrifice my hearing for you…"

Wincing at his comment, I continue to enjoy the music. _It's gonna be a long ride._

* * *

><p><em>Recess bell alerts all that the fun's over and that we have to end our intense Girls vs. Boys dodgeball match. Sweat drips down my brow as I am the last one still standing on the girl's side. It's down to this showoff, the most popular kid in our 6<em>_th__ grade class, Axel and my friend Wesley. Everyone knows that Axel has a thing for me and plans to ask me to be his Valentine during the little classroom party. I stare at them with confidence and motion them 'Bring it'. Whoever gets me out, well…gets me as their Valentine. That's the new catch to the game today. _

_Axel smirks as like he has already won or something. He looks over his shoulder at Wesley, "Look how a pro does it, Chump.", the boy gets in T-position, aims, and shoots._

_Nervousness makes my knees buckle. I close my eyes not willing to see this, "Chump? Says the kid who throws like a girl. Watch me do it.", I hear Wesley say. Sure enough a ball makes contact with my leg and the crowd cheers. _

_One of the supervisors walks over, blows her whistle, and says, "In case ya'll rascals didn't hear…TIME TO GO IN!"_

_Most of us stick our tongues out at her. The crowd disperses and my fellow classmates walk with their designated Valentine while I awkwardly walk with Wesley. My friend puts his arm around my shoulders, "You don' like me, do you?"_

"_SHE'S MINE!", yells an angered Axel._

"_Rules are rules, man.", replies Wesley._

"_Screw the rules!", Axel stomps over to me and snatches my hand, "I called dibs and everybody knew it."_

_My girl, Piper, steps up, "Ain't like she has your name on her.",_

_Her guy, Damian, pulls her back, "C'mon, we gonna get in trouble. Les' go, Ax.", they drag a brooding Axel away_

_Letting out a breath, "Well that was interesting…", I say_

"_Still haven't answered…"_

_Biting my lip, "I-I just kind of see you as my friend…bestfriend. We've known each other since long ago…this would make things weird, don't ya' think?"_

_It's Wes's turn to let out a breath, "Thank you, Jesus. Thinkin' the same thing. I see you more like a sister: don't ever wanna see you hurt and well I just saw the look on your face.", he chuckles_

_Going along with him, "Thanks. Let's get a move on…they're gonna close the doors on us!"_

* * *

><p>Part of the reason of why it is so damn hard to let a person go is not that they're dead but the wondering what you would've done IF they were still alive. Also, the memories that make you want to create more memories. Maybe, in situations like mine, it's the fact that you have one person less to lean on, to be able to fall apart and know that he'll tape you back up. Plenty of things make death suck balls. Plenty.<p>

Perhaps, I'm not even ready to let go. Doesn't feel like I am, but this is what he wanted. In ink it's written as a matter of fact. 2 months going on to 3 and I'm still stuck on yesterday's happenings. If he really is watching over me, I want him to know I'm fine—see that I am. Man needs some peace now that he's up there, wherever _there _is. Yeah, this is why I believe it's time. _Fuck this…Valentine's Day is was never my day. _

Snapping of fingers in front of my eyes gives me a rude awakening, "Beautiful, we're here.", _FUCK!_

My body freezes almost like going into a paralyzed state. Fingers and toes refuse to cooperate with me. This both aggravates me and terrifies me. Breathing is shallow and short. Roses fall off my lap and my eyes water. _Do my tear ducts ever go dry?_ I fooled myself into doing this, "Phil I can't…", I whisper

He looks me over, "Of course you can, sweetheart. Just get up out this car and walk a couple feet…easy.", he says coolly as if I'm playing.

Shaking my head furiously, "I literally can't…my body is paralyzed."

His brows furrow, "You serious?"

I laugh kind of like a crazy woman does, "Oh no, Phil...I'm just fucking around with you."

He laughs too, "Almost had me the—"

"No, idiot. I can't fucking move!", I growl

He observes me for a minute, "You're scared that you'll forget him, aren't you?"

"Not just that…I feel guilty. Because of ME he's rotten 6ft under. He made me so many promises, helped me with everything, took care of me…can't fathom not being able to ever see him again…", I purse my lips to avoid tears.

"My mother, Twiggy or whatever she called herself, cried and begged me to stay. You know, when I left. Promised me to give me the world and more…", he scratches his brow, "Said she'd get clean and get a good job…IF I stayed. She needed me to give her life some meaning. Y'know what I told her?", he stares at me, "Told her to let me go. Threw all my anger for her letting Pops hit Mike and me, for letting that bastard degrade and mess with Elle's head. Told her that I would rather die than stay another day.", he plays with his lip-ring, "I left and didn't return until she was dead and gone. Hell, I didn't even attend her funeral. What type of son does that?", he drums his fingers on the steering wheel, "Came back in '02 and finally set things straight with her. I miss her. Miss the way she'd come home, fucked up and all, and tell me how much I meant to her or how proud of me she was. Point is, we never really forget we just… learn to remember them when we start to forget. Hurts once in awhile but you get used to not seeing 'em.", he bites his lip, "I-I dunno if that was of any help…giving these 'Life goes on' speeches ain't my thing, dollface."

Feeling is regained, somewhat, in my arms but not in the legs, "It did. I-I just need a minute."

He grabs my hand, "Whenever you're ready. I don't think I'm heartless enough to leave you stranded.", he smiles…that damn sexy smile.

* * *

><p>Being that it's still February, the wind is frosty but not like in the winter. Luckily, Phil let me borrow his sweater so this short walk is bearable. Carefully, we step around gravestones as to not disrespect the non-living. Spotting Wesley's my eyes water immediately. This is the first time I've visited since his funeral.<p>

Gravestone simply states his name and all that good stuff. Flowers and the like adorn it which warms my heart a tad bit. Phil hands me the roses and I set them. Feels surreal to be doing this; we always imagined to be old and wrinkly. Life doesn't work in our favor though.

"Punk…you think you can gimme a moment?"

"I'll be around.", he digs his hands into his pockets and walks off.

Dropping to my knees not minding that soggy grass underneath me soils my jeans. Shaky hands feel the gold plating where his info is dated. I retract my hand and cover my mouth to hide the sobs that rack my body.

Time escapes me as I have been crying for some time. Now, all that I feel is the sticky feeling of dried tears and coldness. Looking up at the sky, from my mouth come words, "Wes, my man, if-if you can hear me…I just wanna tell you how fucking sorry I am. Sorry that because of me…you-you aren't here anymore. Your daughter won't have her real father around. I-I am so sorry…I should've listened to you…should've BUT I can't turn back the hand of time, brother. Forgive me, give me a sign that you are at peace and don't hate me. I know I've failed you so many times BUT from this-this moment on I SWEAR that I'll keep on living because this is what you died for…died trying to protect me, like you always did. Now, it's my turn. I-I still can't handle your kid but for you, I'll try. I will do whatever I can to guide her through life…she'll be one of my own—Micks ain't well, bro. She's…she's not well BUT I will take Eli in—don't you worry. When Micks gets better, I'll tell'er what you wanted me to.", holding myself, "Bro, life is so hard without you though. Honestly, I dunno how I'll make it out without you to pick me up when I fall. I've been thinking of leaving this town. I need to be with family…you were that to me but now…now you ain't here. I just don't know if I'll be able to leave Dominick, or my people...or Phil. I-I just need some peace and serenity...I'll figure it out, don't you worry.", the wind picks up for a second, "Phil says that I have to let you go so I can get better…so this is me letting go. Don't you ever think that I'll forget you, never. You're still my bestfriend…just save me a spot up there…I-I gotta go.", I kiss his gravestone and force myself to walk away…there is a lot left unsaid but for now…this is enough.

Reaching Phil who has busied himself with throwing stones at the thawing pond, I touch him and he jumps nearly falling in, "Fuck, shit!", he pinches his nose, "You're evil.", he eyes me, "How'd it go?"

Holding myself, "Am I supposed to feel any lighter? Any happier? 'Cus I-I sure as hell don't feel it."

He pulls me into him as I sob into his chest, "Little by little, doll, little by little…", he kisses my forehead, "I gotta go talk to ol' Wes…you'll be okay?"

Waving him off, "No, but I promised him that I won't be killing myself anytime soon.", I half smile and he nods and walks off.

Men always try to pass of as tough and void of any emotion that involves being sensitive and of course crying. Phil proves that sometimes…sometimes even the most heartless, sarcastic, strongest of men…they break. How? Watching him sit pretzel-styled in front of Wes's resting place with his hands covering his face and the shaking of his body.

* * *

><p><em>Lazily walking, nearing the porch to the Brook's residence, we spot Elle, Micks, and Wes all staring at us through the window with grand ol' smirks across their faces. I hide my embarrassment in Phil's shoulder and he chuckles knowing that we've been caught redhanded. <em>

_Inside, we're bombarded with question from Mick's nosy self. Wes and Elle give each 'the look' and Elle speaks up, "Well it was about damn time. Waiting for you two to get together has caused us great frustration, sheesh."_

_Phil rolls his eyes and squeezes me, "It's official. I mean, no contracts have been signed so she can just leave me BUT who would…I'm a charmer.", he wiggles his eyebrows_

_Shaking my head, "What have I agreed to?", everyone laughs_

_Wes drags me from Punk's side, "First things first, Punk you my man, brotha' and shit BUT if you so much as break her heart…well, shit's gonna change.", he winks at me, "Also, if ya'll gonna be fuckin' or something…RUBBERS. I don't want to be an uncle and PLEASE don't fuck when I'm present.", I gasp and Micks slaps his arm_

"_Damn…and I was planning on sealing the deal right now…", says Phil with mock-disappointment, "BUT, I will comply with your Terms and Conditions, Sir."_

_Wes laughs and shakes up with Phil, "Welcome to the fam, bro!", all of us girls facepalm_

"_You're so…"_

_Wes pats my shoulder, "Only 'cus we made a promise, lil' sis. You know I'm just lookin' out…"_

"_Yeah THAT or trying to scare off all men…", a round of laugher and I hug a huffing Wes, "I know, bestfriends 'till…", I whisper in his ear_

"_6ft under, not anything less.", he whispers back with a smile_

"_Who's up for another lovely Valentine's Day flick?", asks Phil. He steals me away from Wes, "You'll get the privilege of sitting next to me, beautiful.", he wags his brows and the gang gags_


	49. Chapter49

A/N- So this has been getting some love lately, I like! Thank you, guys!

I tried my best to end the day with on an interesting note...

CHAPTER 51

**Day 74: _Part 7_**

Following our little detour to pay Wes a well-needed visit, we found ourselves just driving around in pure silence. Correction: FI ND ourselves driving around in silence. Feels like the first time we shared a car…back when we were 'strangers' and I assumed that he was gonna rape me and ditch me.

Eyeing the shit that tells one how much gas is left, sorry I am no goddamn car enthusiast, it says that we're a quarter of the way to being completely out of gas. Mr. Wrestler next to me appears to be out of it. Figuring that it's a rather good way to rid the air of awkwardness, "Um…Phil?", he grunts, "We're almost out of gas…"

"Yeah, I know.", he replies

Furrowing my brows, "Okay? Then shouldn't we be heading towards a gas station?"

He bobs his head lazily, "I should…BUT I'm already en route to DiNolfo's."

My heart stops functioning for a millisecond when it comes back, I can almost feel it beating in an uncontrolled, rapid tempo, "WHY?"

"You want to let go don't ya'?", he asks as if this is right. As if I won't have heart failure right now.

My skin clams up and I urgently need to get out of the vehicle, "I-I CAN'T…I talked to hi-him already…PHIL WE, WE CAN'T—"

Visions of that night latch onto my brain like parasites. All emotions felt return to me, the most prevalent: fear. The bastard's voice invades my ears as if he's whispering in my ear. Rhythmic thumps of that cold gun against my forehead I can feel. Screams and shrills erupting from Micks's desperate throat resound in my ears. The distinct sound of bullets firing send me over the edge of my sanity. Dominick's voice comes on repeat as I see Wesley go down with a bullet straight through his cranium, his eyes glassy without signs of life as his mouth streams blood, "Marleene…Marleene…Marleene...DOLLFACE WAKE UP! WAKE UP!", my eyes drift open and Punk comes in my line of sight, "Gave me the fright of my life, thank you very much.", he says exhaling

Making to get up, my head throbs, "What the hell?", I mumble feeling a bit disoriented, "What happened?"

"You knocked out cold on me, that's what happened."

Closing my eyes, "Fucking tool! You mentioned DiNolfo's and going there and—"

"We're kind of already there, beautiful."

My eyes crack open, "What'd you say?", crazy-eyed and all I observe the scene and we definitely are. My body shakes and trembles on the spot and I fumble around trying to undo the seatbelt.

"What are you doing? Calm down, you barely rega—"

Growling dangerously, "LEAVE ME BE…I'M GETTING THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!", fumbling around some more and I finally disengage the God forsaken shit thing. As I attempt to slide over to the driver's seat, Phil holds me back, "LET. ME. GO.", I demand in a tone that not only should scare Phil but me also. Noah's laugh resonates in my head and I cringe, "WE NEED TO GO!", I shrill

"Mar, look at me.", he demands calmly.

Shaking my head furiously, "He-he's gonna kill us…", whispers

"This is why we're here. You need to let go of that fear. This is the last place he stood."

"Please, Phil…", I mutter breathlessly

"C'mon. I won't let anybody hurt you. I swear on anything.", he says tenderly

"I-I'm scared. Wes-Wes he died…I-I was there…Noah he…Phil, please."

"Doll, please…do it for Eli…for yourself. You need this."

Seeing that we won't be leaving anytime soon, I give up my fight. Reluctantly I let go of the seat and timidly slide out of the car. A few more steps and we will be in the scene of the crime. Where my life changed, forever. The very place Wesley took his last breaths. Where everything collided and paths of life were detoured and dead-ended and halted.

Inching closer and closer, my stomach was in my throat, "I can't do this."

"That's what you said with Wesley."

Another step and I stand in the exact place where Noah stood that fucking Christmas day. I hold onto Phil's hand as if it'd help any. The scene plays in my head over and over. Gravity brings me to my knees. The cold slush doesn't tear me away from my thoughts, "He did it so I'd move and catch them…", I whisper to nobody in particular, "They were for me…"

Punk crouches next to me, "If I would've move faster…reacted and not stayed in shock…", he too shares his perspective. I am not the only one left traumatized by the happenings.

Leaves rustle behind me and I tense up, "Phil…he's behind me.", I whisper desperately with my eyes shut tight, "Don't. Move."

Man holds my hand, "Nobody is behind you. Turn around, I promise."

"I-I heard him…I…I'm scared.", I say sobbing between breaths

Phil rubs my clammy hand, "I stand behind what I said. We're gonna be rooted in this very place 'till you're not scared anymore, beautiful."

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52 minutes. 52 minutes we sat there rooted in the same place 'till I got the nerve to look behind me and realize that it was just a figment of my imagination. Cold, cold as we were but we stayed. 52 minutes it took for me to let go of that fear and realize that though many things will potentially compromise my wellbeing, Noah and his slut won't ever be one of those things. At least for another 50 years or however long their sentences are. 52 minutes and though I feel stronger, braver for facing that fear, I don't feel any lighter. My heart throbs with this pain.

Dragging myself to Wesley's er…Cher's house, his roommate, I hold Phil's hand. Another day in a different life, this'd cause a great reaction but it's today in my life. Looking at our state of being, Cher will probably pity us for looking like we've been digging around in the dumps. Punk picks a leave from my frizzed up hair and I smile or at try to in return.

Knocking on the door, we silently wait for someone to answer the door. When nobody answers, I grumble and start dragging Phil back to our about-to-be dead vehicle not really wanting to take a chance of getting stuck in the middle of nowhere this late but then the door unlocks revealing Cher clad in a bath towel. Punk tries his best not to gawk but he's a man and quite frankly Cher is a fucking GODDESS. Even in my depressed state I can say that. Blowing my cover, I elbow Phil and silently reprimand him.

"Marley, girl, that you?", asks Cher quite surprised. I half-smile, "OH MY GOD!", she lunges into my arms and kisses my forehead repeatedly. As much as I love this, I don't and I'm hoping that purple-flower towel is still on her body, "PIERRE, THALIA, RAMSES…GUYS GET OVER HERE IT'S MARLEY!", Phil chuckles off to the side and I sigh internally but smile my best so they won't interrogate me, "Come in, Marley and…?"

"Punk.", replies Phil and Cher smiles giving him a onceover.

Ushering us inside, I already find my friends lingering in the livingroom with 'FRIENDS' going on and cases of booze and vodka littering the area. Phil looks at the scene with disgust but says nothing. Spotting me, the group drop what they're doing as well as what they're holding and gawk at me as if they've seen a ghost.

"_Marleene, eres tu_?", shrieks Thalia, "_Dios_…", she scrambles to me and hugs me. Once that's over she holds me at arms' length, "_Como has estado…no he oido de ti en…anos_."

Shyly, "Um, I've been hiding out…"

The boys come and stand on either side of Thalia, "Well if it ain't little Marley…", says Damian shooting me this lusty look. Punk kicks off the wall and holds me to him, "You must be the old boy, "Punk…I 'member you…", he says patronizingly

Phil smirks, "I'd like to say I remember you…but sadly, I just don't…", he shrugs as if he actually meant it.

"Pity.", replies Damian, "Well, I'll let ya'll catch up…Ima go and smoke this joint…", he winks at me as he passes by, I shiver.

"_Disculpa, es un idiota cuando anda borracho el buey. Pero, bien venida al mundo de nuevo_.", says a chipper Ramses

This is all too nice for my liking at the moment but not smiling would be a bitch move, "Thank you and I think the dude IS always an idiot.", they chuckle.

"So how have you guys been?", asks Cher bringing over a vodka bottle and shot cups, "I can't imagine how ya'll feel, I mean Wes was my room—the best one ever—but we weren't as close as you, Marley."

She hands me a vodka filled shot and I down it immediately, "Baby stepping it. One step at a time."

Cher offers Phil a shot and he refuses, "No thank you. I don't drink."

"He's a keeper, Mar.", she says with a chuckle

I almost choke on my next shot, "We aren't together…but Phil was one of Wesley's good friends too."

Ramses clears his throat, "How 'bout we sit down and continue this chat… maybe smoke something or—"

"I appreciate it, guys really BUT I'm not stable enough for talking. Today has been tough and I need to get out of these clothes. I dunno I just feel like a fucking depressing zombie and I-I…I would just like to see Wes's room, please.", I sigh out

Thalia smiles understandingly and drags Ramses away. Cher looks at her feet, "Sorry, love. Go ahead. Anything's yours."

"Thank you, cupcake.", I gaze at the vodka bottle and snatch it from her gasp, "Thanks.", and I drag Punk off and up the stairs.

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Before actually getting to my deceased bestfriend's room, we walk through the stretching hallway that displays pictures framed and pinned on the wall displaying many of his proudest moments. Moments like his first birthday, his first 'A', his mom giving him his first dog, graduating from elementary all the way to highschool, a picture of him and Dips in front of the parlor, his first tattoo, and one that catches my attention, a picture of Micks, himself, Phil, and me at prom.

My legs move no longer and I hover in front of the picture. Phil breathes on my neck making me shiver, "What's that?", I move away so he can have a better look.

"The last time my life ever seemed halfway normal…", I whisper. Phil stares at me and I keep on my way to Wesley's room taking gulps of vodka.

Wiggling the knob, the door opens leading us into the reserved world of Wesley. People say that they feel most at peace when in their rooms because there it's like there little escape…their own place. I guess that's Wesley's feel too. All along the walls are posters, tattoo designs, writing, and such. Clothes lay strewn all over the ground and his gaming chair almost as if he'd been here trying to find something this morning. Picking up one of his shirts and clutching it to my chest, I walk over to the hamper under his 'To-Do' whiteboard.

Dropping the shirt, I cover my mouth, I remove ultrasound pictures from it. On the board he had written '24 wks 'till I see my babygirl!'. My eyes water at this because he'll never actually get to hold her or tell her how much he loves her or…anything. Taking another long sip of the vodka, I walk over to his drawer and find condoms which I softly chuckle at, a pack of cigs, and a gold bracelet with 'Eleanor Grace' engraved.

"Drinking isn't gonna wash away the fact that he's gone or the pain that this brings, beautiful.", he say trying to remove the bottle from my grasp. All I do is nod until I feel my neck cramp and soundless tears drip down my cheeks. He drops the bottle and wipes my tears, "I know…I know…", he wraps me in his arms and that's when I unravel.

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After a couple of minutes, my sobs have resided and we just hold each other. Awkwardly clearing my throat, "Let's find something to wear, I feel nasty in these damp jeans.", I wiggle out of his arms and pick up a random longsleeve off the floor and begin to strip off my jeans.

Off to the side Phil coughs letting me know that I'm half naked…in front of him, "I'm just gonna…yeah."

He starts towards the door but I latch onto him, "Don't leave me along, numbnut…Damian is sick enough to walk in here…"

He chuckles, "You scared?"

I frown, "Very appropriate, Phillip.", I start pulling of my borrowed tee, "You mind?"

The man leans against Wesley's drawer, "Nope, not really…I'm enjoying the view.", he says with a wink, I throw the tee at his face, "This a strip?"

Deciding to have some fun, now that I'm starting to feel a buzz, "You wish, Phillip Jack."

He snorts, "I don't know anyone with that name…", he says with crossed arms

Laughing and walking over to him, clad in my trusty Pokemon themed panty set, "I seem to remember a fellow, pretty-looking one, about your height and same colored eyes. Except, he has bleach blond hair, a little bit more buffer, and not as sarcastic.", I say tapping on his nose

Amused, he taps his chin, "Can't be as out-of-this world handsome, can he?", I scrunch up my face, "Hm…I once met this girl, Marleene. Boy she was a catch. Beautiful face…they used to mistake her with Eva Longoria, but between me and you, she was way better. Also, she had these incredibly beautiful eyes…it's ridiculous. Not to mention the ass on her…woo!", I smack him on the arm, "Hey! She had curlyass hair…", he pulls me in closer to him, keeping his hands on my waist, and smells my hair, "Smelled of vanilla…", his lips make contact with my skin and I feel myself relax, "She was short like you but man was she stubborn.", his lips make their way to my neck and begin to knick and lick causing me to lose a breath and close my eyes, "Stubborn and mean…never wanted to be wrong. But she was also smart.", his lips travel up, "A vocabulary on her… Also funny…dorky but cute…", he gazes at me, "I got a lot about her to say…I guess, I'm in love.", he stares at lips and goes in. Make it his 90 and my 10 and it's a kiss.

Soft and tender our lips work. A lick is all that is needed to escalate to the next tier. His tongue snakes in and my wars it out not wanting to be dominated; I moan as his fingertips graze my uncovered skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake. My hands sneak under his shirt feeling his stomach muscles tense and relax. I bite him bottom lip and suck on it challenging him to make his next move. He lifts me off my feet and sits me atop the drawer. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I make it quite obvious where this is gonna lead should we not stop.

Seems like everything is forgotten between us. No sadness, depression, anger, resentment…nothing but what's happening. My finger inch his shirt up, "Make me feel something, Phil—I want you. I need you.", I mumble against his lips.

_Yeah, not even my conscience is talking…_


	50. Chapter 50

A/N- Can't thank you guys enough for all the love. Seriously, you guys are what keep me wanting to go on with this little story of mine, THANK YOU!

So it's… **SEXY TIME!** (_My first lemon, ever…might be a little rusty, sorry._)

**If you aren't down with it feel free to skip down to the non-italicized section! **

CHAPTER 52

**Day 75**

_"Make me feel something, Phil. I want you. I need you.", I mumble against his lips_

_Lips capture mine in a chaste kiss. He rests his forehead against mine, keeping his eyes closed, "It's my turn to say it…I can't.", he removes my hands from his shirts and caresses my face, "You've had more than enough alcohol…I don't want you to regret anything."_

_My eyes widen and I hop off the drawer picking up something to cover myself with. I come to believe that he's using THAT as an excuse…_it's my fatness, my floppy thighs, noticeable stomach, and unflattering scars…the stupid tattoo_._ _Embarrassment consumes me_, _"Oh my…I-I'm so…what was I thinking? Of course all of this 'baggage' turns you—oh my…I-I needa go", I stutter scrambling past him_

_He catches my arm and pulls me into him, "How can you think that I'd be THAT shallow…I've been declaring my love for you…for weeks."_

_Leading me over to the closet with the mirror doors, "Look at you.", he stands behind me, holding my hips, "Look…", he lifts my chin so I can look at myself_

_Staring at myself in the mirror,_ I still feel disgusting. _My eyes close, "Stop…"_

_He whispers in my ear, "If only you saw what I see…", I shiver involuntarily, "You drive me insane…", he mumbles as he starts kissing my neck reaching my sweet spot, I moan almost inaudibly, "Don't even have to try…", he mumbles. His hands, fingertips graze up my sides and fondle my breasts through my bra, "I like the theme.", he whispers in my ear, I feel my nipples harden and panties begin to get wet._

_Turning around, I kiss him with such intensity, such need. He returns the kiss with the same need, intensity. The coldness of his lip-ring only adds to my desire. I feel his hands travel up my back and undo my bra, as it slips I hold it up…I've gone shy on the man. He gazes deeply into my eyes, "Let me see you…", his hands remove mine letting the Pokeball bra drop to the floor soundlessly. He stares at me and my breasts as if I'm a work of art. He leans and latches onto one of my nipples while thumbing the other, a breathless moan escapes my mouth as the pleasure overtakes my senses. I run my fingers through his hair and bite my lip, closing my eyes. _

_Another moan and I pull him up by the hair. My curious fingers hike up his shirt up over his head and throw it off to the side. I assault his mouth, running my tongue over his lips…demanding entrance. He lets me through but not without a fight. Finding more confidence, I rake my nails lightly over his chest, down his navel, until they reach his pants. Keeping him indulged, I pull down his pants and he kicks them off. _

_Backing him up until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, I sit on his lap rubbing against it as I knick and lick at his sweet spot behind his ear, "I want you, Punk.", I whisper in his ear breathlessly. I begin to kiss my way down all the way south finding myself face to face with the struggling bulge in his boxers. _

_Gripping the sides of his boxers, I pull them down to reveal the one part of this perfect man I have yet to see._ He is well endowed, that's for sure. _Licking him from the shaft up, I keep my eyes on him…his reaction. He bites his lip. Another sloppy lick and he closes his eyes, "Uh, uh…eyes on me, Punk.", I say with heavy lust in my tone. He obliges, and I take him full first bobbing slowly, grazing my fingers along his testicles, and then faster. The man sucks in his breath but fails when he lets out a moan. His hand grabs a fistful of my hair to try and control me and I stop, "No, Punk.", I descend again and I can tell he's close as his breath comes raggedly. The man is like puddy in my hands._

_"Jesus, Marleene…", he groans. Just when I'm about to finish him off, he pulls me up, "I don't want to be done just yet…", he whispers_

_Laying me on the bed, he kisses me fervently as he snakes his crafty fingers into my soaked boyshorts, "You're soaking…", he teases my sensitive nub and I whimper, "You wet for me, huh?", he rubs me more and my response is a breathless moan. My legs close on his arm not wanting my stupidass tattoo to be revealed but he pries them apart, he gets in between my legs and slips off my panties. He sees the tat and I close my eyes waiting for him to walk off. He doesn't, instead he captures my lips, "We all make mistakes, doll." _

_Putting both hands on my hips, I lean on my elbows as he swipes at my clit and I bite back a moan, "Look in front of you, beautiful.", I do…he means to look at him going down at me through the mirrors on the closet. He starts licking and sucking on my bundle of nerves, inserting a finger and then two into my slit. My body instinctively starts to thrust against them. _

_Feeling my peak coming, "Oh…oh, fuck...", I mumble not being able to create a coherent sentence_

_Phil stop what he's doing and I groan. He leans over me, keeping his fingers probing me, "Say my name, princess."_

_Feeling myself slip in and out of my pending ecstasy ride, "Phillip…please.", I whine closing my eyes_

_"I dunno this Phillip…I'm offended.", he whispers still teasing me, "Say it, princess."_

_"Punk…Punk, please…", I moan_

_"That's my girl…come for me, beautiful."_

_ Don't even gotta say it twice, I reach my peak in an instant, "Mmmm…Punk!", I moan closing my eyes even tighter. When I reopen them, I'm surprised to actually find the man who I called out for laying on his side watching me. _

_Reaching for his face to test reality, _he's as real as they come. _For the first time in my life, he's the very man who drove me into ecstasy…_not his brother or any other man. _He leans into my touch and I pull him atop me kissing him all over letting my hands roam all over. Staring deep, deep into those eyes of his, "I need you…Phil."_

_Leaning down, he nibbles on my ear before putting my legs over his shoulders and guiding his throbbing erection into me. He teases me by pulling in and then quickly out. I whine wanting him in me, to complete me. Finally he pushes into me, fucking deep in. I stir getting use to his size, "You okay, Mar?", he asks tenderly_

_Smiling through half-lidded eyes, "You forget that I'm no virgin, prettyboy."_

_He hovers over my lips, "Who woulda thought.", he says with a smirk and kisses. He starts thrusting at a set pace, I sigh. Eventually his set pace quickens with every thrust I can feel the warmth of his breath caress my neck and ear turning me on all the more. _

_Keeping a hand on my hips and another working my clit, I feel myself being brought closer over the edge. His quickened pace becomes frantic, erratic thrusts, he's determined to bring me over the edge, "Let go, Punk.", I moan into his ear. I rake my nails across his back as my orgasm overcomes me, "Ay…ayy,_ papi!", _I moan ever so erotically into his ear and then that's when the last thrusts becomes his release._

_Catching his breath, he rolls over bringing to over his chest. I lean over and kiss him and he tiredly wipes stray, sticky hair from my face, "I love you.", he mumbles as sleep takes over his body. That's the moment when it hits me that we didn't just 'fuck' …no, he, Phil—my first love—he…_ made love to me.

* * *

><p>Stirring awake, my eyes slowly but surely flutter open. Even through foggy vision I realize that this definitely ain't my room. Panic overwhelms me, looking around I start to remember that I am in Wesley's room.<p>

"Morning, beautiful.", says a voice out of the blue. My soul damn near leaves my body. These enticing olive colored eyes gaze at me lazily, a soft smile on the man's face as he marvels at me as if I'm a marble piece of work. _Punk…_

Propping myself up on my elbows, "I'm naked, aren't I?", I ask dumbly. The breeze answers with a 'Yes'

Punk chuckles under his breath, "Yep, but you don't look too shabby…if that helps."

Letting myself lay back down, I cover my eyes with my arms and laugh, "Gee, you sure do know how to make a girl feel like a fuckin' diamond, Punk."

He laughs, leans over and kisses my arms away until he can actually plant one on my lips, "If I said that you'd get too cocky.", he says against my lips

Leaning in to peck him once more, "I guess I won't mention just how pretty you are…", I say making a face at him. He chuckles and mocks me. I turn over on my tummy.

Lips touch the spot where my battle scar is located and I shiver, "Honestly don't have a clue how you find me 'oh so very gorgeous' and all that shit."

"The fact that you aren't perfect…it turns me on.", he says with a chuckle

I turn over and sit on top of him, "You're lucky that I'm naked…or else I would've left your ass here and taken your clothes."

He laughs and turns me over so he's on top, "You'd love that wouldn't you…to see me streak about town. Kinky.", he winks and kisses my forehead, "I haven't been this…this complete in a long time…not just because we had sex—"

"We had what?", I ask with a smirk

"Sex.", he replies,

I caress his cheek, "Where do we go from now? We kinda skipped all the way to 3rd base, Phillip?"

He gets off and taps his chin, "Well, I was sort of thinking of getting out of this house, without having to do the walk of shame, and then going out for some grub, and then to the house 'cus sister dearest has been alone for far too long."

_He's avoiding the question…What about Maria? _Smiling I rise off the bed, and throw on one of Wes's long-sleeved shirts, "Well let's get a move on, Cher as well as fellow mates are early risers, sugar."

Bending over to gather my discarded clothes, I feel his presense behind me and turn around to face him, "You're making it quite difficult to concentrate on anything when you're bent over like that.", he says lustily

Standing on my tippy-toes, "Deal with it, horny teenager.", I peck him and gather my shit. Though I'm all giddy and shit on the outside…on the inside—it's a different story.


	51. Chapter 51

A/N- Ahh, you reviewers, followers, and readers make my days brighter!

So more of the morning after, yada yada… read and see what's up!

_Rant of the Day- Why was summer school ever invented? Nobody fucking learns shit…just another way to throw much-needed money away on unnecessary shit. All the people that are there are people who barely getting through the system and couldn't care less! AHH, sowwie but I just needed to say something haha_

CHAPTER 53

**Day 75: _Part 3_**

Meaningless sex is never really meaningless sex if you think about it. There's always a purpose behind it. Whether it be for coping or just to feel alive…there's meaning. There's a rising term amongst young fuckers, 'No Strings Attached'. For those who have no clue, basically, it means to have sex devoid of any personal emotions or fucking just to fuck—like a one night stand. Take it from a hooker, sex is always full of emotions—the only way to not feel anything for the person who is deep in is if you're secretly imagining somebody else doing the dirty deed.

Watching Punk as he dresses, every now and then winking at me or giving me a sly wag of the brow, my mind travels back to the night before. No point in denying anything that went down: we had sex. _Rather, Phil made love to me, and I?_ My skin can still feel his fingertips glide, lips nibble and lick. My body still remembers the way that guy made it feel—_shit, my abdomen tingles just thinking about it_. _What about my heart? _Saying that EMOTIONALLY I felt nothing is a rotten lie because I do—_but to be able to tag it as 'Love'? No…_ Don't get it twisted; I will always love Phillip Jack Brooks in that 'first love will never be replaced' way.

The beginning of the sun rising shows through the window hitting Phil in the face, he squints and pulls up his boxers, "Fucking sun…", he mutters under his breath

Quietly tittering, I drag myself in front of the mirror with both my panties and shirt wadded together into a ball, "Somebody's a werewolf this morning.", I taunt

He chuckles and encircles my waist from behind, kissing my temple, "I think you mean 'Vampire', sweetheart.", he says biting my neck

I wince and slap him, "Dick!", I whine. Focusing on my appearance, again—_I STILL look like I just had sex_. Without Phil's arms around me Wes's shirt fits me like a long ass oversized-sweater stopping barely at mid thigh, "This is why I hate having boys around me…always want to get in my panties.", I state playfully

Phil gasps near my ear, "How so?", he smirks, "In your panties like…this?", his hand disappears under the bottom of my shirt and starts fondling my intimate body part, I sigh, "Well, well, well…your dirty girl you've got no knickers on.", he says in a British accent, an attempt at one, "You're soaking…", he whispers huskily into my ear

As he fingers me, with hooded eyes, I stare at him doing so through the mirror in front of us which is quite erotic. The damned boy smirks at how I react to his ministrations. My legs close up on his hand and hand tightens around the wad as I ride out my orgasm, "Fucking…fucking…bitch.", I moan and he chuckles

While I regain feeling in my legs, Punk pulls on his pants and shirt. Deciding to get some revenge, I press myself to him and kiss him fervently…discreetly slipping my hand into his pants and begin to work him out. He groans against my lips so I travel to the spot behind his ear. His breathing accelerates as the speed in which I jerk him off does, "Marleene…I-I…I'm gonna…cum."

I giggle in his ear, "That's the point, darling.", my speed slows down and then I retract my hand going about like nothing happened. I hear Phil grunt, displeased, as I search for a jacket or the like in my bestfriend's closet.

Finding a lumberjack-esque sweater, I turn around to a frowning Chick Magnet. The look is quite comical which makes me laugh, "What's wrong?", I ask innocently. I pretend to be shocked at the sight of his erection, "Woah…best take care of the ehrm…situation…if you know what I mean.", I add with a wink.

"You're one hell of a tease. I gotta watch out for my virtue…you're both dangerous with that pretty little mouth and now those dainty little hands.", he says in mock innocence

Shaking my head and chuckling, I turn to fix up my hair, "Whatever 'virtue' you have is a HAD… what we did yesterday is anything BUT moral, big boy.", turning and walking up and near his ear, "For the record, while I might be 'dangerous' with my hands…my mouth…", I chuckle breathily, "that's something quite new a discovery.", the man stares at me in disbelief and his manhood going flaccid—well doesn't go. I chuckle, pat his chest, pick up my Jordans and saunter off towards the door.

* * *

><p>Tiptoeing, trying to be as stealthy as a ninja, I sneak into Cher's room across the hall and I find her, unsurprisingly, passed out on the floor with a bottle of Jack in hand and Damian snoring his ass off on the bed. Internally snorting, I hunt around for some replacement shoes and socks. My eyes close in on these space-looking quilted boots that just call out to me…sparkle even. Throwing Cher another peek over my shoulders, I snatch them.<p>

Quickly retreating out of the room, shopping bags that align along the wall catch my eyes. _Why does this woman have everything I want? _Peeking in a couple of them, I pick out a brand new lacy racy thong. _For the sake of being decent…these shits are overrated. _In another bag I find these crazy, tribal patterned tights and put those on too, "Mar? Tha' you?", asks a slurred voice

Clutching my shirt and panties, "Uh…yeah?", I turn to see a near asleep Cher

"Mkay…G'nigh'", she drops back on her pillow

Letting out my breath, I stuff my belongings in one of her cute little backpacks and head out. _Not stealing…borrowing!_

No sooner than I close the door do I start happy-dancing for being such a fucking ninja. _Call me, Marleene-son…_ Caught up in my dance, I don't spot Punk way until I hear his muffled chortling. My dance stops and I embarrassedly pass him, smacking him in the process.

Shushing the staircase every time it creaks as we go down it, Phil still laughs making me turn around and shoot flaming daggers at him. At the bottom I pull on the boots and motion Phil to follow me inconspicuously.

Palming the chrome handle of the front door, I feel it stir and my heartbeat quickens. It opens revealing Thalia, Ramses with their baby, Hugo, in arms. They jump at the sight of us and we just stand there like deer caught in the headlights, "Hey, you guys.", I sing out scratching my head, eyeing a smirking Phil through my peripheral.

"Hello to you, too; I see that ya'll are, how should I say it? Refreshed?", replies a Ramses with a shit-eating grin

Facepalming, I feel Thalia side-hug me and rub my back roughly, "_No se amberguenze, esta bien._", she giggles out making me all the more red

"_Pero…es que…No es lo que ustedes, perversos, piensan!"_, I say trying to deny their suspicions

Ramses howls with laughter until tears stream down his face and poor little Hugo stares at him like he's a nutjob, "_Entonces con que explicas_…", he clears his throat, "_Ay…Ay, Papi_!", he mocks me

Stunned and rather mortified, I stare at the pair with mouth open and all. Phil closes my mouth whilst laughing, "Caught red-handed, doll. We plea the fifth, your honors.", he says lifting his arms

_They're NEVER going to let me live this down…_ Elbowing the man who just gave our cover away, "We-we…you know what, I'm out this bitch.", I say pushing through but a hand holds me back, "What?"

A sympathetic Thalia flashes me a smile, "_Ya sabes que no mas andamos jugando, querida. Eso no es nuestra problema, verdad hombre…?_", she nudges her boyfriend and he nods stupidly, "_Este buey fue para el baño y pues me dijo ver escuchado…ciertas cosas_.", she finishes off trying her best nod to grin goofily or laugh

Completely humiliated, "Okay then…Phil and I are just gonna leave…", I tell them taking the man's hand, "I'll be seeing you…?"

Ramses pulls me into a loose hug, surely not wanting to crush his son, and whispers, "_No que 'muy santa'_?" , he chuckles

Thalia kisses both my cheeks and hugs me tight, "_Si él te hace feliz, no dejes que te impiden esa felicidad…he oído que no has andado muy bien, entonces…Lo único que quiero es que estés bien, amiga. __Hasta luego_, Marleene…uh, you too, Phil.", she lets me go and I kiss Hugo and start out the door.

"Hasta la vista, sir…and _you_, too, Miss.", Phil replies with a wink

* * *

><p>Frosty morning air greets me, if I wasn't awake yet…now I really fucking am. Hearing the door whoosh closed behind us, I shake Phil's hand out of mine and trudge down to the other side of the sidewalk completely ignoring the imbecile. <em>Could've just done without the whole letting them know shit…<em> Hugging myself, I head in the direction of downtown which isn't too far a distance.

"HEY…HEY!", yells Phil as he sprints towards me. I choose to pretend like it's just the wind. Catching his breath, "Mar, hold up!", and still I keep on walking.

Isn't until he attempts to make physical contact that I slap his hand away, "Leave me alone.", I tell him warningly

Passing by a group of kids waiting on the school bus, Phil corners me against a wall, "I'm not gonna lie, this little 80's look…", he pulls my shirt, "and your little temper is quite sexy, but why exactly are you upset? What'd I do this time?", he asks furrowing his brows

Looking off to the side I notice that the kiddos currently waiting on their bus are taking interest in our little display, mothers mean-mug me, "Get off me. There are children on the premises."

He chuckles in my ear, "I don't really give…just tell me what poked you the wrong way, no pun intended."

Wide-eyed at his boldness, "There's motherfuckin' kids here, dirty asshole.", sighing, "I don't appreciate the fact that you told my friends of our activities.", I tell him

He shakes his head with a smirk, "Wow, women ALWAYS overreacting.", he lifts off the wall and continues to walk in the same direction

Confused and still upset, I skid next to him, "Shit, can't really blame me when I'm only trying to protect myself from looking like a slut!

Punks pulls me to him, I struggle without much outcome, "Oh how you entertain me, beautiful. I don't really care what people think of me, and if they were really your friends, they wouldn't give either. Apart from said things, you're sexy and single—what else could they expect?"

Feeling like I'm losing this argument, if it even is one, "They'd expect me to fuck somebody who is SINGLE, too. Last time I checked, you're still with the ever lovely, Maria.", _so much for not doing Maria how Noah did you…_

As if having a spaz-attack, Punk pushes me away all quick about it and stomps away from me and onto the other side of the street entering the park. Sighing, I follow him not really wanting to walk by myself. Soon as I'm close up behind him, he 180s on me, "You think I fucked you?", his anger line protrude

The few people lounging around look at us and I start feeling awkward, "Can we not do this…here?", I mumble staring at my feet

"I don't care what you do or don't wanna hear!", he says even louder to prove his point, "If I'd fucked you, I woulda had my way with you not caring about what YOU wanted. I admit that's what I very damn well had the urge to do 'cus I am a warm-blooded man…and I haven't had sex with Maria since long ago.", he breathes, "BUT I didn't. Maybe it's that you're so stubborn and thickheaded that it can't get through to you that I fucking made love to you…I'm not preaching to being different from every other bird out there but when I say something : best believe I mean it. As for Maria…we both know she has been cheating on me…", he continues walking and people avert there curious and stunned stares. _He's good with these speeches._

_Confirmed. _Walking next to him, I look around anywhere but him. Sneaking a peek his way, I see that he's caught up in thought. I take his hand in mine and pretend like it's nothing. Nearing the playground, I spot the tree where we laid on that day where he once asked me what we were, "I just don't wanna be a chess piece in your game—don't want that to have been some sort of revenge for Maria or for what I did all those years ago. I'm guilty but I might have just given you the gun…and it feels like you're aiming straight at my heart…", I say as if I'm talking to the wind

"Would've shot you way before you woke up, don't ya' think?", he says pulling me into him

"I don't know much these days…"

* * *

><p>Way before all of this, this as in the happenings between October and now, a couple of small shops had been closed down and to be turned into a family-owned Denny's diner. Well true to what they said, now open stands the diner.<p>

"Hey, let's check that out…", I nudge Punk, I'd never been to a Denny's before

"As the lady wishes…", he replies as he holds the door for me.

Inside the ambient is quite calm and relaxing. Earth tones with the lamps still turned on as daylight isn't as bright for the old one to be able to read their morning paper. What temps me straight away are the pies on display. My stomach growls but the sign says 'Wait to be seated.'. _Where in the fuck is the waitress or the hell?_

"Estella, you ain't my damn mother—so don't try to be one.", shouts a what I guess is an employee coming out of the boss's office. _Estella? _Walking towards us, I see that it's a woman about my age give or take a year. She's got that bob cut which suits her, she's white…anyway, she looks at us and smiles, "Good morning, I'm Effy. Follow me.", she leads us to a booth closest to the window. I push Punk into one side and I sit on the other. Effy hands us a menu, "I'll be over in a bit to take your orders…", she eyes me, "Take your time.", she smiles in my direction and heads off to wait on other tables looking in my direction every now and then

"Looks like she's digging the 80's look too, beautiful.", chuckles Phil as he looks over the menu

Rolling my eyes, "It's something called being friendly…something you should learn about."

"I'm quite friendly actually. Now, THAT'S what you call being _too friendly_.", he says with somewhat a tone of annoyance

I milk this, "You jealous, big boy?", I smirk

"Nope, not at all…", he replies not looking up

I snicker, "LIES!"

Effy returns with pen and pad in hand, "Okay, you guys set?", she asks looking between Phil and me

"I am.", I say before Phil has time to answer. She smiles at me, "I'd like the Original Grand Slam but can I switch the eggs with some hash browns and…", I look over the menu, "Ooh, and seasoned fries and a shake...chocolate."

"Shaken not stirred?", she ask with a mischievous smirk. I blush, "I think I can make that happen, dollface.", she says in a tone that makes me blush even more. Phil clears his throat, "How 'bout you?", she asks him

"Same as her except make the chocolate shake a Pepsi, please and thank you.", he replies sharply

"Alright, I'll be back."

"Oh hey, I'm Marleene and I don't like my shakes shaken but not stirred.", mocks Phil in a high-pitched voice

Scoffing, "Shut the hell up!", I kick his shin under the table, "Punkass."

Phillip winces but still smirks, "Aggressive.", he winks

In the midst of a heated argument on why Trish Stratus is better than Lita, Effy returns with a our plates with a skinny but curvy, middle-aged woman with the curliest of hair, dressed as if she's still a woman in her twenties, and caked up make-up on her ass going on about how it's not right to be the way she is and such. _Typical money-wanting slut._

Phil smirks enjoying this while I clear my throat. _People should have some sense of manners and leave their shit—wait, never mind. _Effy rolls her eyes signifying her annoyance of the woman behind her, "Estella tend to the lovely pair.", she hands over the plates to this Estella woman

Groaning, Estella sets down Phil's plate and then turns to set mine down. Isn't until she sees my face that she nearly topples my chocolate on me. Staring at her, I start picking through the familiarities of which I feel like I know her, "_Eres tu_…", she whispers horrified

Gazing into her eyes, I figure out who she is. _I know her. _Hell, all this time I thought that she was dead—erased from the planet. This disgusting woman is my _mother_.

Standing up in a hurry, I push past her and start out the door not waiting on Phil or anything. The need to get as far away as I can from that dirty, waste of life is grand. I pull at my hair in desperate attempt to calm myself from not going back and causing another drama.

"Marleene!", yells Phil. I hear his footsteps as he runs to me but don't stop. He's walking next to me trying to get my attention, "What the hell happened?"

Stopping as soon as I deemed it far enough from the damned Denny's, "Don't ask. Talk to me about something else, Punk. Tell me something…anything—I need a distraction."

"Um…I ever mention anything about the time when my mom gave me the talk about the 'Birdies and the Bees'?"

* * *

><p>Those laugh attacks when you're laughing so much that no sounds comes out but you're still laughing? Yeah, I'm having one of those. Phil walks besides me frowning at my making fun of the fact that his mother put it upon himself to stock him up with condoms once he turned 14.<p>

Nearing Micks's house, I pulled him into a side-hug, "Aw, I'm sorry, Phil but…that was…", another spasm of laughter

"Fucking fantastic…", mutters Phil as he picks the lock and swings the door open. He shushes me and flips on the light and mumbles, "Oh fuck…"

Sitting with one shapely, long leg over the other, clad in knee-highs, tight jeans, beige leather jacket, apple-green shirt revealing some of her flat tummy, and tear-smeared makeup is Maria, lazily filing her nails…almost as if she's been waiting for us. _She has. _My mouth floors and I quickly let go of Phil.

"Good morning you guys, how was your guy's Valentine's Day?", she asks with fake innocence in her voice. _She knows, fuck me. _


	52. Chapter 52

A/N- Couldn't get any sleep so yeah… Let's see what good ol' Maria got for us, shall we? Looking forward to hear or see what you guys think so far. Thanks for the continued support (:

CHAPTER 54

**Day 75: _Part 4_**

Chucking her nail file over the couch, Maria stands up and dusts herself off, "Before it slips, I've already fed Micks and bathed her as well 'cus you two, apparently, didn't return last night.", her smile creeps me the fuck out by the second. _She's too calm…, _"Alright I guess you guys aren't in for some small talk.", she gazes deep into my eyes…sending me a warning signal.

Clearing my throat, "I'm in the mood for a nap, please excuse me.", I start making my way past Maria but she grabs my upper-arm

"Stay.", she says with a serious hint in her tone, "Please.", it's much more a command and I know this isn't going to be pleasant but I nod and take her place on the couch

"Instead of OUR Valentine's Day…we should talk about yours, sweet tart.", says Phil as he gets comfy on the arm chair.

Maria's lips twitch but still keep their usual smile, "Fine, _babe._", she spits out the word as if it's a swear and glides over to sit on his lap, "Remember when I told you that I was gonna take off for the day?"

He smirks and pats her thigh; I frown slightly at this and begin to feel awkward as fuck, "Of course, Ria. You ran off to see Davey, how is he by the way?", Maria visibly tenses up a bit and sends me a glare believing that told. Phil sees this and turns her head so she's facing him again, "Now, now don't go pointing fingers, babe…she didn't say anything—I've known.", he says still smirking like it's nothing

"Yes, I did and he's fine, somewhat upset over then end of his marriage, but overall he's well. We went out for some dinner and did some shopping—you know…", she replies going along with her boyfriend's game or whatever.

"Nice. Very nice. I suspect that those flowers were for you, as well as the little note?.", he says still playing it cool. Maria's smile still shines through only faltering a bit. Only emotion of sadness is in her eyes that shine with pending tears. Not wanting to give up the game she still only nods, "Sounds…", Phil bites his lip ring, "Why, Maria, why?", Phil's tone comes off as a weak whisper

Growing uncomfortable with all of this, I speak up, "I'm just gonna…leave you…two al—"

"You have a part in this too, Marleene. Nobody leaves this room.", asserts Maria in a serious voice

Running my fingers through my hair, I plant myself back on the couch and pray to God, Jesus, and Virgin Mary…anybody that this'll go by quick.

Keeping Maria on his lap, "Why? Why'd you go off and do me like that? I want an honest answer…I DESERVE an honest answer.", Phil sets his jaw but I still see the slight tremble of his lips, "I knew that we weren't good…I thought it was just a rough patch but I didn't think you'd go and fucking see Dave behind my back.", he plays with his lip-ring, "Ria, I thought we were serious—hell, I asked you to move in wi—"

A tear glides Maria's cheek, she smiles, weak smile, and caresses his cheek, "Phil, you don't love me. I-I can't wait around in hopes that you'll grow to love me like I want you to… because you, like me, know that the one you love is Marleene.", her lips tremble as she tries to contain the pain of the truth, "I cut him off for awhile in HOPES that I could get you back, baby…but I never really did have you to begin with."

Shaking his head with furrowed brows, "How the hell can you say _that_? I LOVE YOU! I haven't left because I love you, Maria.", he holds her face in his hands and I feel my heart drop into my stomach—slowly being consumed by acid

"You love the IDEA of me, Phil…we've been together for so long that you're just used to me.", she kisses his fingers, "Babe, the one you're really in love with is Marleene…don't try to deny anything. I've seen the way you look at her, the way you touch her…how you took care of her…how worried you were about her…you even cried for her.", her smile finally drops, "I-I've finally given you up, okay? You're free. You don't have to be with me outta—anything.", tears freely stream down her face

Seeming to be at a loss for words, Phil stutters, "But…I-I…Ria, c'mon…I love you…don't leave me—I'm just—"

Maria untangles herself from him, "Please, stop trying to make me stay—I'm ready to let go. You're just scared of getting hurt, but if anything Marleene…she's a good woman. There's a reason you stopped your life for her.", Ria hastily scurries behind the couch to reveal her packed up suitcase.

As she tries to flee, Punk holds her back, "Please, Ria…don't.", he begs and this is one of those moments of Punk showing his raw emotional side. It breaks my heart to see him like this. _It should break your heart to hear him declare his love for another woman…_

Maria hugs him, "I gotta go, Philly. Thank you for the time we had…it was something I'll always keep close.", she kisses his cheeks and continues out the door and stops abruptly to dig something out of her suitcase, "For Dominic, I kn-know how much he loves vi-videogames so…", she hands Punk a game, "and for my prin—I mean, for Eli…", she pulls out a stuffed monkey plushie, "Tell them that-that I love them…so much.", with that she scurries out the door. _Where?_ I have no clue but I hear a car door slam close and engine roar.

With his hand in a fist covering his mouth and gifts at his feet, Phil silently stands there trying to keep his emotions in. I, on the other hand, try to process what just went down and what's to come.

* * *

><p>The day has dragged on since Maria's departure. Phil after about 10mins decided that it was time to hit the gym. Something about getting in shape and that it helps him with stress and all that good stuff. He kissed my forehead and practically flew out the door with his gym bag and phone in hand.<p>

It's approximately half-day and all I've been doing for the past couple hours is watch re-runs of _La Familia P. Luche _in hopes that the quirky, goofy, velvet-wearing characters will give me a laugh or two and eating reheated pancakes. My mind is still clogged up with Maria's words and Phil's, too. No matter how much I try to shake them off…I can't.

Estella makes a run-by in my mind making me bite myself as I chomp away of my pancakes. I wince and curse the hell out of the floppy pancake. Last time I saw the bitch was about a decade ago, I was 11—_a child_. I am now 21 and no longer need her but still resent her. _Life's fucked up_. Seeing how her life turned out: married to a possible millionaire, having all the luxuries money can offer, and nothing to really worry about. _Look at how I'm living…look what you did, stupid bitch! _

Biting my lip, the temptation of calling somebody to dish out my shit to enters. I'd go to my bestfriends but yeah. _Who else is left? _Jee, Carlos, Bree, and JoAnn if I'm not mistaken are at work. _I miss my job… _Mama Rosa is probably yelling at Dominic for eating chips on her sofa and probably too busy with Eli. _I really should go scoop them up… _Cher, Ramses, and Thalia? _No, no…NO! They're probably still laughing at their discovery…_ Randy! Strolling to retrieve my phone, I wonder what the man is doing.

Returning to my place on the couch, I scroll through my inbox which reminds me that the mail box is probably overflowed. Looking down at myself, I shrug and go out and open the box to find some bills. _Woo! Bills that I have no cash to pay! _Inside, I sit my ass down on the couch and go through about 20 text from multiple people and reply to all, '_No wrrys. Im still alive_!'

Searching and finding Randy's number I weigh between texting or calling…I choose the latter because I'm tired of hearing my conscience talk. Pressing 'talk', I wait for the Viper to pick up. Sorting through the mail as the phone rings, I find hospital, electricity, water—EVERYTHING bills. As I start to go through the first stages of a meltdown, I hear a deep voice say, "Well it's nice to read that you are alive."

I take a breather and chuckle, "Hello to you too, Randy."

The man chuckles, "Randy? Sweetheart, you're talking to John…Rands is currently on the treadmill."

My eyes rip out their sockets, John…as in John Cena? The one with the booty you could bounce a penny off of?, "Oh…um…he-hey…", I slap myself for sounding like a total fangirl

John snickers, "He-hey you. So, I've heard about you, ya' know?", _he has?, _"Rands can't st—Hey!", and indistinct voice bickers with John for the phone, "I was just talking to her, man!", I hear John laugh out

"Sorry, Marleene. SOMEBODY, robbed my phone from right under my nose…", I chuckle, "What's up? I haven't heard from you in like…3yrs."

"That's logically impossible, you've known me for a little more than a month!", I reply smartly

He snorts, "Somebody is trying to act smart…", I laugh, "How you been, gorgeous?"

Rolling my eyes at his pet name, "I've been better than days before, honestly. Finally let my main man go…well, sort've…yesterday."

"That pretty good to hear. Don't tell anybody but I've been worried about you, missy."

"Don't worry, I won't ruin your rep, Vipes.", I scoff

"Vipes?", he laughs, "How's the clan?"

"Micks is N/A. The kids are cute and currently at my surrogate mother's house…yeah.", tell him

"What about Phillip, huh? And his chick Maria?", I can picture Randall's smirk. _If only you knew…_

"I kinda wanted to talk to you about something that includes them…got time?", In the background I hear John singing his theme song. I laugh my ass off. Randy tells the man to shut up

"Ayo, Rands…tell your little girlfriend that we have to head out to the arena.", I hear John say, "Oh and that I'm looking forward to having some fish-n-chips with her and you.", he laughs.

The sound of what I imagine is a hand making contact with a face sounds through my phone and I crack with a fit of laughs, "You heard that, didn't you?", mumbles Randy

"Yeah.", I breathe out

"Well, yeah…I've gotta head out, Marleene. With Wrestlemania coming up in April, shit is pretty hectic. 'Lotta work, no play.", he laughs, "

Pouting, "Aw, poor you but 'kay."

"I'll keep in touch, though. By the way, I don't know about you but I'd be thanking me for paying that phone bill…JUST SAYING!"

My eyes bulge, "WHAT?", I exclaim but the phone line has gone dead. I shake my head. _That man…_

* * *

><p>Being that I'm still home alone, the responsibility of cooking Micks dinner has been bestowed upon me. I decided to be as nice as possible so I heated up her favorite food in the world…Chef Boyardi's Lasagna. Plenty of days I've spent with her to know that if she could, she'd have an affair with the damned can. Grabbing the bowl of lasagna, a rag to lay on her lap, and cup of orange juice, I slowly walk to her room. Truth be told, last time I ever really saw her—she tried to lash out at me which has got me all shaky-legged.<p>

Breathing profoundly I knock on her door before opening it. Propped up with a bunch of pillows, Micks sits on her bed with the t.v going on but her eyes saying different—she's not actually there. Her room is dark, save for the glow of the t.v. I purse my lips. It hurts to see just how bad she is. Flipping on the lights, she turns her head in my direction and I tense up for a minute, but she doesn't acknowledge me.

Clearing my dry throat, "Hey babes.", I whisper with a tiny smile, "I brought your favorite, Boyardi's Lasagna.", I hold it up to show her but as I expected, she says nothing. Resisting the urge to shake her 'till she reacts I go over to her and gently set the rag on her lap and place bowl in between her legs, "Careful, it's hot.", I warn her

Checking the clock on her wall, it's about 7:30p.m and still I with no signs of Phil. RAW is has been on air for the past half hour so I decide to try something, "Micks…is it okay if I stay here and watch RAW…with you?", I ask the silent woman. She blinks and I take that as 'yes'. Carefully, I get in bed next to her and switch the channel.

(1 HOUR LATER)

They've just announced that my all time favorite Superstar, Eddie Guerrero, will be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Call me a dork but that actually gave way to some teardrops. He really deserves to be in that shit. Off to my side Micks is still eating her, already cold, lasagna. Tomato sauce stains her lips so I grab the cloth and wipe her mouth.

Putting the cloth down, I touch her cheek gently and look her deep in the eyes to check if she even sees me, "Babes, please…please come back.", I purse my lips not wanting to frighten her with my tears, "I need you badly."

McKenzie follows me with her eyes but says nothing. And I guess that is enough for me…enough for right now.

* * *

><p>Once upon a time in highschool my American Studies teacher taught us a little some-some' about the 50's and the lifestyle and all that good stuff, if there's one thing I took away from that class it was that women in that time period were expected to hold down the house. 'Hold down' as in do everything that sexists think pertains to a woman: kitchen duty, cleaning everything, washing and stitching clothes, buying the necessities, popping out the munchkins and taking care of them, making sure that husband was free of hassle, and obeying the husband without question.<p>

Now, I say this because if I were a woman in the 50's…the men in the neighborhood would, more likely than not, stone me or burn me at stake. I don't do anything, I mean it. You're talking about a woman who not only doesn't know how to use the washer but one who doesn't clean…or cook…or anything. _Unless, for some reason, I feel the need to do any of the previous…_ Like right now, with so many things running through my mind, I'm busy cleaning clothes and doing the dishes.

The door unlocks, I dry my hands and peek over to see who it is. It's a sweaty, sticky Phillip Brooks in all his glory. He drops his bag on the floor and lazily kicks off his shoes before falling limp on the couch.

Admiring how attractive he looks all sweaty and shit, the smell he'll leave on the couch should he not remove himself is much more distracting. Strolling over to the man, I tap on his shoulder and he peeks through a half-closed lid, "You an angel or somethin'?", he slurs, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

Smiling at the cuteness, "Far from that, Mister. Come on, you needa hit the shower—you gonna stink up the place.", I notice plastic covering on all his fingers and take one of his hand in mine, "You got new ink?"

Phil looks at his fingers, "I guess so."

I frown and try to figure out what they say, but all I get is a jumble of letters, "What do they spell out?", he locks his hands together and I read, "Romantic.", I chuckle, "Romantic?"

"Don't laugh…I consider myself a hopeless romantic…at heart.", he mumbles pulling his hand away

I raise a brow, "Right…well, git'up Romeo…you're in dire need of a good shower.", groaning and all he makes his way to the bathroom.

In the meantime, I head into my messy ass bedroom and change into my Cubs tank and shorts. Sighing at the state of my room, I pick up a pillow and my Batman blanket and head into the living room and turn on the t.v to see that Spiderman is on tonight. Making myself comfortable on the couch, I just chillax and try to make myself fall asleep.

(11 MINUTES LATER)

"I didn't know we were having ourselves a movie night!", booms Punk waking me from my light slumber.

Blinking a couple of times to regain focus, my jaw drops. _Yes, Phil's body still amazes me…_ Wiping off my dirty thoughts, "You're lovely…I was trying to catch some shut-eye.", I whine

Phil plants himself next to me. He picks my legs up and sets them on his lap, "Don't mind me then, I'll just watch Spidey by myself.", he says with a smirk

Watching the movie in silence with him for a couple minute, the urge to ask him how he's doing and stuff pangs at me. Nudging so he's listening to me, "Punk, how are you…after all of this?"

He raises an eyebrow, "Care to explain?"

Rolling my eyes, "Stop playing dumb, how are you after…you know…Maria?"

He makes an 'o' with his mouth and taps his chin, "I've crossed the bridge.", he states simply.

Eyeing him, I give up…_he ain't gonna talk unless he wants to… _But where we stand after last night's happenings still bugs me, "What about us? Where do we stand?"

Phillip observes my features, "Where do you want us to stand? I don't do one-night stands…if that's what you're asking about."

Green eyes bore into my gray eyes waiting for an answer and the only thing I can say is, "I'm going to put my cards out on the table, okay?", I start out feeling unsure of myself

He nods, "I'm all eyes and ear…"

"Right now, I don't need labels, Phil…I just…I just want to know that I'll wake up tomorrow and find that you're still here…no terms, no conditions.", I smile weakly, "I don't need anybody else leaving my side, yeah? I'm still in the process of being fixed and…and—"

Phil pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses my forehead, "That's a relief 'cus I was planning to stay either way.", he says chuckling, "I love you, I mean it.", _but you still love…her. _

After a while, we cuddle watching Spiderman. My mind still isn't at peace but I feel safe. _I am safe, for now. _I look at Phil and see that even though he might be staring at the t.v…his mind, it's somewhere else.


	53. Chapter 53

**A/N- **Filler feel; I'm happy to say, even though later in school I won't be, that after today, there will be no more **Day XX**. If you have been paying attention, you'll find that they represent something.

**A/N- **Dozens of thankyous to all my followers, reviewers, and readers! Ya'll keep me goin'.

**Day 88**

Bills, bills…bills—bills from the fucking water supplier, bills from ComEd, bills fromNicor, bills from Comcast. Essentially, the typical American household will pay a hefty amount of money to keep those lazy, greedy, corporate hicks wanting to supply them with life's necessities. Top that with hospital stay bills—one has to pay to bring another human, one that will someday be paying these same bills, into this fucking world. One would think that these things would be free but no.

Yanking a patch of hair from my scalp, I let out a frustrated growl. _This is me looking through all the bills that have accumulated_. Every envelope that I rip open spills out a letter or statement with wordy bullshit but the 3-digit money signs are quite clear. _Coming back to the 'real world' has proved to be difficult already_. Reaching over for my 5rd shot of vodka, I put it to my lips and savor what I can. It's midnight and I've yet to sleep with all this thinking of how in the sane heck I'm gonna put money into these motherfucker's pockets by the end of the month. _Shit's swimmy…_ I hug the Absolut bottle and lay my head on the table.

Creaking of the front door welcomes a late, as usual for the past 2 weeks, Phillip Brooks. "You should really tell that hussy to let you off the hook sooner, you know?", I voice from my seat at the table.

Footsteps near closer until they're right behind me and lips peck my cheek while a scruffy beard tickles it, "I've tried but damn that woman does wonders, and besides I thought you'd be in bed by now.", he jokes

I half-smile, even though he can't see it, as he brings a chair and sits down beside me but let it drop, "Ha…ha. Sorry to disappoint."

Punk lifts my head and tries, _emphasis on 'tries'_, to pry the bottle from my tight grip, "What's wrong, sweetcheeks?"

"Other than my jeans pancaking my ass, feeling like a bloated whale, my hair needing an address of its' own, the appliances rebelling against me, Micks giving me the silent treatment, Rosa mothering le kids because neither of their maternal figures are up to par, people who keep sending 'Are you alive?' texts, getting up for work but then feeling too fatigued, THESE BILLS THAT COME IN LIKE LATE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS!", I wave a couple of envelopes to prove my point,

He whistles, "Quite a list. Don't worry, princess, I've got solutions and answers…", he sits up and leans closer to me, whispering in my ear, "Your ass, like the rest of you, is amazing…unless there's someone else who isn't happy with it?"

I gasp and smack him, "Shut up."

"As for the appliances, poor things they are. They have the right to rebel! The ONE time I let you do MY load of laundry…people could smell me from a mile away!", he chuckles and I turn tomato red, "Micks is alright, I check on her before I leave…she's getting better believe me or not. Hey, all those fuckers that hit up your phone better JUST be asking that.", he deadpans and I smirk, "I got the bills under control.", he adds quickly, "Champ and Baby Snorlax ar—"

Barely getting the gulp down my throat, "Did you just refer to _la bebe_ as a lazy, fat Pokemon?"

He grins, "Uh…_SI, SENORITA_!"

At this I couldn't help but laugh, "You're terrible!"

"What?", he tries to stifle his laughter, "All the midget does is cry, eat, shit, and sleep—all in that order!"

I facepalm, "What you expect her to do: suplex and tombstone people?"

"Yeah?", he grins even more as I laugh on his shoulder, "See, I make shit better when I'm around.", he says arrogantly

I smack him lightly upside the head, "_Que chistoso eres_…", I mutter taking another a gulp straight from the bottle

Phillip frowns at the sight, "How 'bout you fork up the bottle, you've had enough, little one.", he reaches for it but I turn

"How 'bout you tell me what's up with you and I'll give it.", I suggest. _Give in, bitch, give in…_

Boy taps his chin, "How 'bout we toss the bottle and head to bed. I'm tired as fuck and cold…you can be my furnace tonight?", he wags his brows insinuatingly. _Fuck that, I want words and answers!_

With a frown of my own, "I never finished tellin' ya' what's wrong. I didn't mention that this fuckin' vodka tastes like shit…dunno why in hell I bought it. Neither did I mention, _you_.", I poke him

Amused, "Me?", he asks

"Yes, _you_.", I observe the letters on the bottle like they're interesting, "You being out from dusk 'till dawn doing who knows what with who knows who, coming home expecting me to be oblivious and okay with that, and pussyfooting around questions and avoiding talking about anything about what you're on since-since—", I take a breather, "Whatever. Other than that, nothin's wrong…_nada_"

Punk stares at me as if I've spoken nonsense and I fume. I push off my chair and hand him the bottle, "You ain't sleeping anywhere near my bed."

"Are you—are you shittin' me right now?", he asks his patience with crumbling You're playing the jealous card, already?

"You see me smillin'?", I spit, "Go ask that hussy or whoever the fuck to warm you up.", I mutter and stomp of ALMOST tripping over myself but stomping. _Maybe it's jealousy, perhaps his refusal to let me know what's going on, maybe it the alcohol…whatever…_

"We aren't even official…remember? You don't need labels!", he shout after me. _Fuck! Caught up with my own words!_

* * *

><p><strong><span>Day 90<span>**

_With a loud thump and a sharp pain in my back, I woke up. I rub my back and notice that I've fallen off the bed due to Fanny and Caro taking up the whole space. Huffing, I get up and look out the window to see that it's barely sunrise. _

_Heading out the door I hear voices yelling and I shake my head to hear that my parents are at it…once again. What's weird about this is that my dad's home—AND NOT WORKING. A smile squirms its way onto my face and I scurry my way to the kitchen where Estella is going off like a total prima donna at my father who just leans against the counter pretending to listen…like he always does. _

_"Ya ando pero bien pinche cansada de esta pinche vida, Israel…BIEN PIN—"_

_"Marley, hija!", my father comes over to me and lifts me up into his arms, "What you doing up so early?", he tickles me_

_I giggle, "I fell off the bed, Pa'."_

_He gasps, "Ah, donde se pego mi nena bonita?",I motion to my back_

_"ISRAEL! ISRAEL!", shouts Estella trying to get his attention_

_"Que?", he asks still playing with me_

_My mother groans in fury, "I'm going out.", she picks up her wallet and trudges out the door, slamming it._

_I recoil into my father, "Don't worry, mija. She's just grumpy.", I nod unconvinced, "Oye, por que no te vistes and I'll take you, Caro, and Fanny to school."_

_I light up, "Does that mean that you're gonna go to Career Day with me?", I ask excitedly for my old man never was able to make it to any of my school things due to his job_

_He nuzzles my cheek, "Of course, now go wake up your sisters.", he puts me down and I dash off like Roadrunner. _

* * *

><p><em>Parent after parent, they all go and talk about their career; some firefighters on their off-day, others chefs and bakers, one a neurological surgeon on break, a car salesman, etc. most, if not all, of these parents are white. Rarely do you see a Latino parent come in a talk about herhis job at a fastfood gig or metalworks factory. _

_Standing proudly, holding my old man's hand, I bring him forward and begin to tell that class what he does, "So, this is my Dad…", I smile up at him, "he works at Ford Motors…he helps build cars.", my entire 3rd grade class claps and my pops begins to explain a little bit about what he does._

_Smiling proudly, I stand off to the side while my dad goes on. I turn to see the parents in the back whisper amongst themselves and snicker while shooting funny looks at my dad. Other days, I'd be quiet as a mouse…but not this day._

_Pulling on my dad's shirt, "Can I say something?", he smiles and nods. I clear my throat and look at the floor, "Astronaut, teacher, detective, salesman, chef, surgeon—out of all of those my-my…uh…my Dad isn't one of them. His job may not seem to be anything important BUT without people like him that assemble cars…none of us would have one. With that, all of you parents should be respectful because my Dad is MY rolemodel/hero…just like you are in YOUR kids eyes…and I respected that when you were up.", I then shyly hug my Dad_

* * *

><p>It's for the American Dream that people like my father put themselves through hardships and jobs that other educated people wouldn't ever take. The American Dream is something that one has to stride for because it isn't given to you. To achieve the white picket fence, family dog, luxury car, 2 kids, wifehusband, and a two-story house in a nice neighborhood one has to put in the effort whether going to school or using their own two hands.

Today is THAT day: the day I go back to work in hopes that one day I too will have a shot at MY American Dream. Today is the day I finally walk through those Inkblot doors and greet the people who have daily texted me asking for my return.

Cracking my stiff muscles, I look over to my side and remember that I kicked Phil out of my bed 2 days ago. Staring at the clock, it reads 9p.m which means that the mentioned man is probably long gone, as usual. Rolling my eyes I crawl out of bed and over to my drawers to choose out a semi-decent outfit for tonight. _Better late than never…_

Snatching up an all black, save for the Rockawear silver logo, and my phone, I head into the bathroom to get beautified and ready to roll out.

(30 MINUTES LATER)

Coming out of the bathroom with my hair did, make-up did—everything did, I enter Micks' room to let her know where I'm going and all that shit. She nods and I slug my way over to her drawer to find her extra set of keys for Wes's trusty muscle car.

Outside, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh air and run my fingertips along the chrome linings of the prized possession. I open the door and start the ignition, let the motor warm up and back out. I roll a window down as I drive down the streets of my beloved town and blare up the speakers with Mexican ass music. _It feels…good to be alive. _

* * *

><p>Being that it has been approximately 17mins that I've been outside of the parlor, sitting in Wes's car deciding on whether or not this is a good idea, I finally get myself together and slowly make my way towards the door. An unfamiliar redhead passes by me and I slide through the door.<p>

Everything has remained the same; everything, except a giant painting of Wes, tattoo guns, and his beloved muscle car. The beauty, detail, creativity, and love put into this brings tears to my eyes. _In his honor… _

"Mar, is that…? Is that _you_?", asks a shocked Bree as she steps over cautiously. I stare at her dumbly and she gasps and catches me in a hug, "OH MY GOD, MAR!", she shrieks while rocking me side to side. The blonde holds my face between her hands and plants one on me, "You whore, I FUCKING missed you!", she hugs me once more…this time sobbing into my shoulder, "Had us wo-worried…", I rub her back lovingly

The click-clack of heels I hear, "What's all this damn ruckus? Wild child makin' everybody stop what they doin' fo—", I let go of Bree and smile at the complaining woman, JoAnne. The gum drops out of her mouth, "Oh my heavenly lord, Jesus.", she whispers, "Mar—child, that you?", she asks bustling towards me. I nod and she hugs me tightly, "Oh my…!", she giggles like a kid in a candyshop, "Girl, it's you…really you!"

I smile embarrassedly at all the attention, "Guys calm the fuck down—it's nothing big.", I urge them

Both of my co-workers, close friends, gasp and Bree shrieks, "NOTHING BIG?"

JoAnne claps her hands together, "PEOPLE HOLD YO' SHIT…AND PLEASE GIVE OUR BELOVED, MARLEENE A WARM WELCOME! BITCH BEEN GONE FOR TOO LONG—LETMME HEAR THOSE CLAPS!", JoAnne shoot me a 'Nothing big?' look

I facepalm and receive wolf-whistles, cat-calls, claps, hoots, and hollers from everybody in the damn room. _Jesus Christ…, _"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? YA'LL TRYING TO GET THE COPS ON US?", barks the one and only Carlos Torres as he snakes through the crowd with Jee on his track. The noise lowers until it's quite and both men see the cause for such disorder, "Curlyfries?", he says with a confused look etched on his face

"Marley?", says Jee with a dumbfounded look. Both men stare at each other and then make a run towards me almost knocking me over due to the force.

"He-hey guys…", I whisper as all the wind is sucked from my lungs

(15 MINUTES LATER)

After getting all the hype down, the group and I sit about the office talking about happenings and shit. Bree talks about her recent fling with a married man and how she ALMOST got her tits done, JoAnne tells about her pending date with her husband who has just returned after 2yrs abroad, Jee recounts his spiritual enlightening and details on his amazing tribute to the late Wes, and Carlos summarizes how he has decided to get his GED and finally settle down or at least try. I give my best synopsis of the past 3months of my life and end up in tears.

After more small talk, we all accompany JoAnne outside to greet her long-missed hubby and we go back in. I see that Remy, a new addition to the parlor, has taken over my throne but still has my pictures on the counters. Everybody is at work, I observe. That's when I notice a very familiar Ace of Spades tattoo, alongside a cobra, and various other body art.

With my eyebrow raised, I creep close to my girl Piper who currently wraps up a Rosie the Riveter tat on a fellow StraightEdge. The man has his eyes closed and I smirk, "WELL, HELLO THERE!", I shout in his ear

He spasms back to life and glares daggers at me, "YOU TRYING TO SCARE BE TO DEATH, LA—Marleene?"

"One and only, sugar.", I wink. _Still got it…_

Punk lays back down and motions for me to take a seat next to him but I pass, "What brings you here?"

"Around town and decided to make my grand return…you know since I've got nothing to do but wait on you to grace me with your presence."

He raises a brow, "Is that so…?", he pouts mockingly, "And here I was believing that you didn't want to see me, not in your house, not in your bed…not ever."

I roll my eyes and count backwards from 10 to refrain from hitting him, "Very cute, Punk…", I grumble

He flutters his lashes, "I try…", Piper finisher wrapping his tat and removes herself from the scene

"So, this is what you've been doing all this time?"

"Sure, if that'll get me into that warm be of yours…", he responds with a sly smirk. _Oh God…_

Fixing a flyaway, "Nope, BUT telling me what's up with you disappearing wi—"

"CURLYFRIES! COME UP! WE THROWING YOU A LIL' SOME'-SOME'!", shouts Carlos from the staircase

"BE THERE IN A SEC!", I shout back

Green eyes bore into the man who has just called me, "Well…go on _Curlyfries_, they await thou.", he hops off the chair and walks out the door, grabbing his hoody along the way, "Later, your Majesty.", _STUPID BITCH! Whatever…he can wait 'till tomorrow…_

* * *

><p>Upstairs, everyone inside the parlor is splayed about the hippy-themed room. Piper and Claudia both go to work the mini bar. Jee medicates a couple of people and me on the house. Carlos orders food. The ambiance is set with some music and dimmed down lights.<p>

Sometime between body shots and sniffs of powder, we took one in honor of Wes, and mine for returning. Between highs and blackouts, I saw Wes hand in hand with Fanny and maybe it was an illusion of my dulled out mind but hell…we believe what we want.

Slurry and blurrily I made a toast to love, lust, and the American Dream. Mentally, I made one for the struggle I went through and the struggle to come.


	54. Chapter 54

A/N- Woo it has been a while! I've been feeling so uninspired. Especially with that AJ/Punk ship being built and what not.

Am I boring you guys? Lol. PM me or review or whatever, tell me what's up. Brighten up my day!

CHAPTER 56

Drinking isn't anything new to me as I've been soaking and drenching my liver in it since the tender, tender age of 14. Smoking is just a once in a while activity. Sniffing, snorting, lining, crushing—not really my thing but shit…_I need to live a little once in a while_. Being that I'm experienced, I should know how much I can intake before I downfall and blackout…_I SHOULD_…Just that when me and my good old friend, Alcohol, get together—we're inseparable. Maybe if you call my bootycall, Mary, I'll leave Alcohol…_for a minute_. Add Sir Coke and I'm STILL drinking…short words me and alcohol have difficulties getting rid of each other.

Music high with bass and turned up to the maximum pierces through my ears as I flow back into consciousness. Quick to cover my ears, I move my hands and cover my head succeeding in knocking out a couple bottles and beer cans that lay on the coffee table. My brain feels as though it's turning to mush while my stomach screams, rolls, and flips. Acid burns my throat as my stomach pumps it's contents up it. I lift up off the table and search desperately for a bin or something.

A trash bin slides over as somebody, probably Bree, yells, "BOMBS AWAY!", Taking no time, I keel over the bin and retch.

Wiping my mouth, my head swirls and twirls and I start leaning forward. A hand catches me, "Woah there, don' need you gettin' a concussion now…", I feel myself being lifted up and put on top of something cushiony. The person I make out to be a man with loose hair and scruffy beard, "You gon' be fine there, miss?", he asks

Scootingaway from him, "Who-who are you? Get the fuck away!", I slur. My inhibitions MAY be lost to a point but not enough to know that this man plans to feel me up seeing as how much of a hotmess I am.

The man chuckles, "I'm Jonah…if I let ya' go you'll go about givin' yourself a concussion…relax.", he touches my knee and I shake.

Still on the defensive, I try my best to swat him away but due to lack of hand-eye coordination I miss, "Get away…", I whine, "I'll cut your fuckin'…fuckin' balls off…mo'fucker."

This Jonah person drops next to me in a fit of laughter, "Sure as hell wouldn't want that!", he breathes out, "Look, darlin', I ain't lookin' to shake you up BUT per your request…I'll just sit here and have a fix while you come back."

A couple minutes slowly pass by and the world as I know it stops swirling and shit. This Jonah dude lazily leans on the couch enjoying whatever he snorted from the mirror in his hand, Bree on the other side of the table has passed out, to my surprise quite a few people still linger around having a joint, a laugh, in the middle of taking each other's clothes off, talking, and drinking, and me…I'm just slumped over on this damn couch feeling like shit.

Wearily, I reach out to poke Jonah, "You gots a mint?"

He smiles dreamily, still floating oh his cloudy high, "Sorry darlin'."

Groaning amongst other stuff, I stumble and wobble my way to the restroom down stairs. One thing that one should definitely not do is walk up or downstairs. I brace myself to the railing but still stumble on the last step and fall on my knees, "FUCKING…CUNTSLUT!", mutter

Gravity holds me down to the ground so I just crawl my way through the dark parlor over to the bathroom and quickly lock the damn door.

* * *

><p>Latching onto the sink for support I pick myself up off the floor and flip on the light switch. Mentally, I'd prepared myself for piss and what not on the tiled floor…no such thing. What I hadn't prepared myself for is for looking in the mirror.<p>

My flesh could just peel off at how fucking disgusting I look. _Fuck my life…_ The strong smell of alcohol is matter-of-fact my hair which is somewhat matted along with my sweater having multiple beer and pizza stains. My face looks like it has been zombiefied: bloodshot red eyes, smeared liner and mascara, and powder near my nose. Using a finger to wipe off the substance, I notice the distinct smell of weed on it. For the next half hour, I spend my time trying to put myself together and not look like such a sloppy whore.

Flipping off the light and walking to the front doors of the parlor, I wonder what exactly happened before my blackout. Everything seems like a mystery after the shots in honor of Wes. Just trying to piece the night back together is too much a task and my brain as well as body cannot do it. At least you didn't fuck anybody?

Half-laughing at my thought comforts me. Something on me vibrates and I'm pretty sure I've pissed myself. Unexpected things are always breathtaking just like the hand that taps my shoulder. I shriek and turn around, ready to low-blow.

Jonah stands there with a case of beer in hand and another clutching heart, "Jesus, woman, you done scare the hair off my back.",

My legs tremble at the sight of him. _Men can't be trusted these days_… Backing away, "Don't try anything smart, I'll shout.", I warn the dude

Gently, he places down the case of beers and throws his hands up in the air as if he's being held up by the police, "Jus' lookin' to have me some beers away from all of that noise…you look like you could use one, shortcake."

I sneer at him, "What you know about what I need?", another step back and I've hit dead end with the front doors only opening if I turn around to unlock them.

"Well, all that cryin' you did 'fore you blacked out explains a bit…look, why don't we just go outside for some fresh air, have us these beers, and just relax—no worries, I don't have an agenda, girlie.",

Giving him another onceover, I nod my head slightly and turn around just enough to keep an eye on him and another at the lock.

* * *

><p>February out here in Lockport is still rather cold and chilly but for the mood I'm in, it's okay; the cold that hits me is quite relieving. Streetlamps illuminate the streets but really don't serve their purpose because by the color of the sky, it's dawn or somewhere near it. Only sound I can hear is the soft vibration of the music upstairs.<p>

Beer bottles clink together as they're put down for Jonah to sit next to. He smiles at me and hands me a beer.I accept it and sit a foot away from him on the curb. Nothing really flows through my mind other than the beer. For the time being I am at peace, _for the moment_.

"I take it that you're the celebrated Marleene, right?", he asks randomly

Staring at my feet for lack of anything else, "Yes sir, I am Marleene Soto live and in the flesh and you are…?"

"Who do you think I am?", he asks smartly

I roll my eyes and glare at him, "A country music lovin' hillbilly for down yonder…"

Man laughs and I can see his crow's feet, "Almost hit the spot but I'm Betty Lou's brother, Jonah Lafont as I said twice already."

I raise a brow, "Betty Lou?"

"Claudia…"

"Oh, ya'll southerners? Don't see a resemblance like at all."

"Yes ma'm, strayed away from South Carolina and hell, well that's pretty good.", he says proudly. The conversation goes nowhere from there. We both just stare off in thought.

Thought for me means: Phil. Seems like all the problems started after we had sex, the REAL problems…_the ones with the emotions_. Sex messes girls up; messed ME up: it made me feel like I'd been low-blowed when he declared his love for Maria, don't forget the disappointment I feel every time I wake up to find his side of the bed cold, the rage that boils my blood when he doesn't call, text—or anything, jealousy when he comes late and doesn't speak a word of his doings or whereabouts, and the intense longing for him to open up to me_. Is he seeing someone else? Was it pity that made him feel anything for me? Am I really as repulsive as I feel? After all the chasing, did he just use me for revenge sex after all? Have I been living a lie? _After everything, I gave up into temptation—I fucked myself over, it seems.

"What's on your mind, shortcake?"

The query drags me back to reality, "Huh?"

"You seem rather pensive…what's eatin' ya'?", he asks with a gulp of beer.

I scrunch up my face, "What makes you think…I'd tell you?", I reply snidely, "Ain't fuckin' story sharin' time…", I mumble finishing up my beer and grabbing another one.

"Coulda done with a simple 'No'.", he says.

"No."

"Ha. Ha.", he says monotonously, "My wife left me. We'd been married since we was 18 and she left me—"

I cock my head, "Why you telling me this?"

"'Cus I'm tryin' to break the ice? Plus, I'm starting to feel buzzed and the chances I'll see you again are slight.", he answers matter-of-factly

Raising a brow, "I'll listen then…don't expect story time from me though."

"Jus' lookin' for an ear from a pretty lil' lady—no expectations.", he says with a smirk.

The comment makes my swig of beer distasteful, "You can keep on, you know?"

Jonah chuckles, "Fine, fine.", he stares off towards the streetlight, "I come home from a hard day working as a trainer for her daddy's race horses and here some moanin' and was like 'Ooh wee, she gettin' ready for daddy!' Boy was I wrong…"

(35 MINUTES LATER)

It's officially dawn. The morning cold air shivers and ruffles every part of my body and being that I'm on my 6th beer doesn't do me any good. Business owners have already come down from their upper lofts and started to set up for the day to commence and employees lazily make their way around us, drunkards, to get to work. People from my own celebration haven't bothered to come out which only says that they're either having an orgy or passed out all over.

Here I am slumped against a very intoxicated Jonah just trying to gain some body heat and keep from blacking out. His body shakes with cold and sobs as he still keeps on with his story, "…and tha' WHORE she-she picked up her shit and left. I done yell after her…says 'YOU LEAVIN' ME…ME! FOR THAT SON-OF-A-BITCH?", he throws his bottle blindly and scoffs, "Man of God, my ass."

Feeling friendly and bad for the man, I put my arm around him and pep talk him, "Bro, if that bitch didn't know wha' she had…SHE AIN'T WORTH SHIET!", I slur. _I'm so buzzed…beyond THAT!_

Wiping his tears with the back of his hand, "Yee, I guess… Wha' 'bout you, lil' lady? You got a man waitin' at home?"

Up until a couple a minutes ago, I was actually getting the boy off my damn mind. Now he springs back and ruins my buzz, "Eh…"

He squeezes me, "Ah c'mon, ain't like I know the boy.", I don't elaborate. Jonah cocks his head, "He the reason for your drinkin' and sniffin'?"

"Somewhat. I, uh, don' wanna talk about him…er IT.", I lean over to pick up another bottle and just close my eyes.

* * *

><p>Indistinct blabbering wakes me up to realize that I've passed out on the dirty fucking pavement. I sit up crankily to greet the sun all up in my grill, back pain, people whispering and moving about, and men yelling and disputing.<p>

Getting up, I nearly kill myself. My legs feel like jello and my visions waves. Somebody comes into my view, up-close, "Goodmorning sunshine…thanks for fucking picking up my calls, 9 fucking calls.", growls Punk. _Punk? When he get here?_

"What?", I ask still dazed.

Punk grabs my face and checks for all around for signs of I don't know what but I feel thrown off, "What'd he give you? He spike your drink or he pull that chloroform shit on you? Are you hurt, how you feelin'? Did he touch you? Tell me 'cus I'm about to send his ass back to fucking Hillbillylandia!"

All these questions overflow my short attention span and give me a headache. I pry Phil's hands off my face and look over his shoulder to see that the people who walk around are looking at us as if we're putting on a show and Jonah stand not too far off clutching his jaw.

My eyes widen, "What'd you do?", I stumble off and check for myself. Punk tries to pull me away, "NO! We didn't—we had some beers and knocked out, Phil!"

"Ah, no need to freak, shortcake…it's okay, man just protectin' his woman.", steps in Jonah working out his jaw, "Boy got a good punch.", he adds with a chuckle.

I frown with fury threatening to fry whatever is left of my brain. I bore holes, bullet holes, into my ex-boyfriend and begin to apologize profusely to Jonah, but I guess he's choosing to go the 'Southern Gentleman' root and raises a hand for me to stop ranting, "Calm down I get it. Now that you're up…go and work it out. I needa head on up and get Betty home.", he grabs my hand, "I'm fine, now go to Town Deputy over there. I'll see ya' on the other side of the barn."

Punk pulls me away, more like YANKS me away, and scowls, "She isn't gonna see you anywhere, I'll make sure of that, partner."

"You tryin' to be her daddy or her man?", Jonah looks Punk up and down, "By the looks of it, more like her woman. What's up with the hair, too damn broke to get yourself a decent cut?", the crowd that has built up makes a chorus of 'Ooh'

Just as Punk is about to step up, I interfere, "STOP!", I push Punk away, "Let it go and let's leave…_please_."

He doesn't budge, he just stands their stuck to the ground, leering at Jonah, "Ooh, I see who wear the panties in this, here, relationship."

I shoot Jonah a death glare, Punk advances, "You want a fight? C'mon, I guarantee to put you to sleep, Huck Finn.", threatens Phil

Feeling lightheaded, I grab Phil's face and force him to stare me deeply in the eyes, "Let's. Go. Let it go.", he sets his jaw and bites his lip. I take his hand and basically drag him away. I plow through the crowd and mean-mug all those bitchass onlookers.

"PUT ME TO SLEEP? I'M STILL AWAKE, LIL' ONE!", taunts the southern 'gent'.

Sometimes these men don't know when to stop so…you gotta put it down yourself… Letting the hand I'm holding go, I glide through the crowd and go up to Jonah, "Maybe if you weren't such a kid, your woman wouldn't have left ya'.", his smirk disappears, "Thanks for the talk though.", with that I suckerpunch him and slingshot back to dragging Phil's sorryass away. The crowd stands astonished.

* * *

><p>Shaky, sweaty hands fumble around with the car key trying to get it to open with no luck. My inner-rage has me so upset, so distraught that I give up and just chuck the fucking keys somewhere near a ranting enraged Phil.<p>

He startled, "WHAT THE FUCK, YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?", ignoring him, I just stumble over to the discarded keys and pick them off and go about opening the car, "MARLEENE, I'M TALKING TO YOU.", I get in the driver's seat and turn on the engine. The black-haired man swings open the door in with a flushed red face, and by the looks of it…he's ready to blow, "MARLEENE! YOU REALLY THINK YOU'RE DRIVING ALL FUCKING DRUNK?"

Pinching my nose to try and control myself from blowing the roof off this beloved car, "I can hear you. Stop yelling."

Phil slumps down on the passenger's seat, "You trying to make me jealous by fucking around with that prick? Tell me what's up 'cus I called you so many fucking times and you never picked up—had me worried. Why are you doing this to yourself? The heavy-drinking, the smoking of weed, the snorting up shit—why? That shit's nasty as fuck! You're a fucking idiot for doing that shit…Marleene, are you even listen—"

"YES, THING, YES!", I close my eyes, "Can I just drive us home with you being a cute and quiet like you've been all these 2wks?"

Slamming of a fist on the dash shakes me up but at this point I'm too tipsy, too tired to even feel a tad bit scared, "Fucking hell, Marleene…can you just let it go? Why do you always gotta be so difficult?"

My inner tigress rips out, "LET IT GO? YOU SIT HERE FUCKING PUTTING SHIT IN MY FACE LIKE YOU KNOW ME AND YOU EXPECT ME TO LET YOU IN JUST LIKE THAT?", I snap a finger to make a point, "HAVE YOU TOLD ME WHAT YOU'VE BEEN DOING? HAVE YOU TOLD ME HOW YOU FEEL AFTER MARIA LEFT YOU? HAVE YOU OPENED UP TO ME ABOUT THAT?", I'm now face-to-face with CM Punk himself, "No, you haven't."

"I don't know you because you won't let me.", he spits in a dangerous turn, "And I say that I've more than a fair share of myself to you. You know, maybe you were right. Right about not being the same but then again you refuse to let me find out…", he plays with his lip-ring and leans back in his seat, "I dunno if I'm doing the right thing…", he whispers under his breath

My face falls. Tears of every emotion on the spectrum of Anger, Frustration, and Sadness rise and fall from my eyes. Words run through my brain but none of them in a sentence. I open my mouth to articulate but instead I black out.

* * *

><p>In the beginning of my downfall, I stared at a bathtub…at the water and decided that I'd just cut my suffering short right then and there. So, I just laid down in that serene, peaceful, warm water and sunk myself…but due to life and destiny and all the b.s…I was brought back. As my consciousness returns with the help of warm, calm, serene water, I wonder if this time I'll be able to get myself out of this. <em>Not because of Phil…life in general is just…<em>

A pail of warm water soak my head and I open my eyes to see a stonefaced Phil doing his best to wash me off. _Yeah, today isn't THE day… _Blood circulated through my body and I regain feeling in my arms and cover myself. _He has seen you naked already…_

"I undressed you…no point in hiding the goods anymore.", he says nonchalantly.

"Force of habit.", I whisper.

After all that was said, I don't have any fight left. I don't even look at him as he wipes me off and helps me dress. Not even as he picks up his shit to go to the gym or wherever.

As he passes by the foot of my bed, I gain enough courage, you can say, to say, "You really mean what you said?"

He pauses midstep, "Always do…I rarely ever sugarcoat shit. Sleep. I'll be back.", he says monotonously.

"My mom isn't dead. She lived with us for a minute—until I was 11…she left us out of nowhere…", Punk stops in his tracks but doesn't turn around, "Not that I ever really needed her though…I blame her, sometimes, for making me this way. You know, 'difficult'. I just don't like to put myself out and have people take advantage and then leave.", he turns around with an unreadable expression, "She's the reason I marched out of Denny's…that woman…she's my mother.", tears fill my eyes…my mother isn't really anything I bring up—that was more of a thing I'd cry to Wes about or when I'm drunk and blame people for mishaps. I stare at Phil and feel like I'm naked again, "Is that good enough to keep you?", I ask like a little girl asking her parent to stay.

(1 HOUR LATER)

Running my finger along the outlines of one of the sleeping man's arms, I lay awake wondering if I, myself, am doing the 'right thing'. I'd gotten him to stay and lay with me just by telling him that little detail. In the beginning I said that he'd only expect more of me than I can give…_will he_? _Will he want me to stop my habits of partying amongst all the booze and drugs? Will he learn of my every secret and use them to manipulate me? Will he be the charmer and use me however he pleases like Noah? Will he, too, walk out when he discovers how damaged a good I am?_

The arm pulls me closer to his body and his head snuggles between the crook of my neck and whispers, "Don't worry, I'll be here when you wake up. Sleep, beautiful."


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N- **_LONG UPDATE because I've been failing for too long. Sorry, it's just I kinda lost direction for quite awhile. Hopefully this isn't disappointing? As usual PM/Review/Follow/Read. THANK YOU AND MUCH LOVE!_

"OH PRINCESS, WAKE THE FUCK UP!", sings Phil loudly in my ear.

It's been a couple of days after the 'incident' and Punk still continues to be sneaky but is good about spending time with me. I bet it's because I opened up about my mother…_the man probably has restored his hope in me…_ Whatever it is, we don't really act like anything went down. Some days it's rather good but others…not so much.

I take the pillow from under my head and put it on top to cover my ears and hopefully go back to sleep. Phil takes this as a challenge so he straddles me and pulls the pillow like a game of tug of war. My breath shallow both from him being on top of me and my face being buried on the mattress, "Punk…get off…you're crushing me…", I heave.

Boy laughs out loud, "Not until you agree to get up off this bed, sweetheart."

Groaning, I let go of the pillow and continue to lie on the bed with a 220lb man on top of me, "Then continue to suffocate me."

"Come on, it's fuckin' 7 in the morning, lazy butt.", he states. _You call THAT late? _

"I don't work 'till 10 so…suck my dick and fuck off.", I shake in hopes that he'll fall off.

But the man is persistent. He leans over, lips next to my ear, "Don't do that…it's quite provocative.", he whispers huskily, "I'm sorry, last time I checked…I was definitely eating _something…_", I shiver. _Why'd he have to catch on how whispering in my ear turns me on?, _"and I'm not fucking off 'till you get up. I didn't go out to buy us breakfast for nothin'."

My ears perk up at the mentioning of food. These days I rarely ever eat for the simple fact that I feel fatter than ever. I sigh and fight temptation, "I'm not hungry.", I mumble unconvincingly

"Did I mention that we're having McDonald's breakfast? You know, hotcakes with some syrup, hashbrowns, sausage links, chocolate milk, I think I even got a toy.", he lists and my stomach growls, "Yeah, your definitely NOT hungry."

Flipping Punk over so he lands on the mattress, I sit up and lazily rub my eyes, "You're a making dieting a difficult task.", I tell him

"Diet? By that you mean going Gandhi? That's no diet…besides, I like the way you look—especially under me.", I turn my head and scowl at his comment. I lean over him to reach for my phone, "Or on top…either way."

Retrieving my phone and punching him in the gut, "And that's exactly why there won't be a Round2, you pig.", I stand, stretch, and check through my phone like it's the morning paper.

"Oh darn, that was my best try.", says Phil sarcastically.

Ignoring, I dig around for something to wear. Being that Punk took it upon himself to move in to my bedroom, again, his clothes are all in a heap with mine. Snatching up one of his band tees, I notice it's the Ramones, "I'm kinda relieved to see that you actually listen to good music.", I comment.

As I pass by him to get some pants, he lets his mouth hang and splutters, "Wha-what? Woman, what did you just say?", he crosses his arms, "You're one to talk…", he smirks.

It's my turn to hang, "I listen to real music. Your shit is on some Satanic level.", I start lifting up my shirt, "Now, get your ass out of my room…_porfavor_."

Punk pouts, "Why? I've already seen you naked.", he grins.

"Keep it up and you won't ever get another chance.", I bust out a shit-eating grin of my own.

Huffing, Punk heads towards the door, "I'm a man. I have needs.", he complains. Staring at his butt as he walks away, I mentally say the same thing, "Stare any harder and my ass will catch on fire."

Creeping onto my face is a blush. The man smirks and I throw a pair of balled up socks at him, aiming for his face but missing.

* * *

><p>Skipping into the kitchen, <em>yes skipping<em>, I smell the Mickie D's breakfasty goodness. It's before 12 and I'm in a great mood without any help from a power drink, tequila shot, or weed. Today my forecast is bright and shiny, why? I don't know. Maybe it's Punk actually being here this morning, maybe it's him being here with food, maybe it's just one of those days when one just shits out fucking rainbows and happiness and shit.

"You look like a straight dime.", compliments Punk with a crooked smile.

My inner teenager giggles, "I'm wearing an oversized shirt and some pants…I got no makeup on.", it's in my nature to always put myself down. _It's a girl thing_…

Phillip rolls his, "You're killing my fucking wet dream right now."

I laugh, "Have yourself a little date with Vaseline and your right hand."

Phil stands with a face of disbelief, "I think I can agree with Colt…you have one dirty mouth.", I smirk, "Anyway, please have a seat milady.", he pulls out a chair and I sit down.

"Why thank you, kind sir.", I look down at my hotcakes and feel myself drool with anticipation, "Talking about Colt…he back in Kentucky?"

Phil plants himself down next to me handing me chocolate milk and in his hand a Pepsi, "He's supposed to be landing sometime today, why? You miss _Scotty_?"

I smile, "You jealous?"

Scoffing, "Slightly but hell that cunt is a distance away. Sorry, sourpuss BUT you're stuck with me.", he grins.

I slap his stomach, "That's cute.", I chuckle at the face he makes. I peck him on the cheek, probably the only kiss I've given him in days…weeks, "I'll just have to settle with what I've got.", I say in mock disappointment.

"Settle? Sweetheart, I'm the best in the world. I exceed 'settling'."

Rolling my eyes at him, "Someone's cocky…"

"Never. It's the truth…I can show you.", he wags his brows

Motioning with my hand for him to stop, "Put your innuendo away, I'm about to eat."

In between bites of food and horsing around, one would never believe that we're the same people who up until a few days ago were on the rocky slopes. They'd just see two people laughing while trying to steal bites off each other and tickling—two happy people in a functional relationship. _We're far from that…far.._

Slapping Phil's tickling hands away, I grab a napkin, "You got a lil' some'…", I wipe his mouth, "there."

Licking his lips, "Well you're very observant.", he says with a suggestive hint

I elbow him, "Shit, I didn't want you to look like more of a hobo. Honestly, Punk, that beard has to go."

Petting his facial hair, "I happen to think I look incredibly sexy."

At the statement, I burst out in laughter as he sits there with a frown, "You look like fucking Jesus.", controlling my laughter, "And I don't know if I want to do anything with Jesus…I have morals and beliefs."

Picking up his trash and mine, he stands up abruptly and tosses them out, "Fuck you, Marleene, fuuuuck you.", his face speaks of seriousness but his eyes give him away as just playing.

Sipping on my chocolate milk, "You kinda already did, Jesus.", I try but fail to not laugh.

"I am speechless.", he laughs.

I get out of my seat and hug the man. Being that he's a fucking tree compared to me, I have to stand on my tippy toes just to hook my arms around his neck, "Stop being so tall."

He lifts me up and sets me on the counter, "How about you stop being such a midget. I touch you and feel as though I'm molesting a teenager.", he counters.

I scoff, "That shouldn't be a new feeling…'cus I clearly remember being 15 and you 18 when we were going out.", I smirk proudly.

"Can't seem to win with you, can I?", I shake my head and he starts tickling me. I spasm like I'm having a seizure.

After a couple attempts to get away, I surrender, "Stop… I'm gonna…gonna piss myself.", I breathe out.

Punk sticks out his tongue and rubs his scruffy ass beard on my cheek, "It's a miracle to see you all smiles and laughs…", he caresses my cheek.

I lean into it, "Just one of those days of unexplainable happiness.", I tell him honestly

He smiles lopsidedly and furrows his brows, "You're one crazy chick, you know that?"

"Kind of got the drift when I was admitted to Suicide Watch aka Psych Ward…twice."

"Twice?", he stares at me questioningly.

_And I've said too much_… Looking for a way out of this pending explanation, "That's a story for a different time…uh…", I drum my fingers on the countertop, "When-when are you due back…like in Kentucky?"

Now it's his turn to avoid my questioning gaze. He bites his lip, "May.", he answers simply.

My mouth 'o' shapes. _Damn, May's not that far away_…My face drops somewhat, "May and then you leave me at the bus station…again.", I wince at my words. _Why'd I have to say that? Always ruining the moment…_

Putting a finger under my chin and tilting my face upwards, "Don't think that far ahead, beautiful. We still got time and I don't plan on making the same mistake twice.", he smiles warmly

I return his smile halfheartedly. Eventually, this was gonna happen. With us being bipolar and unstable…me, mostly, it's difficult to tell if we even have a future as a couple or something. So many things left unsaid and truths and confessions still uncovered…_it's discouraging. _Pulling out my phone, I notice that it's time for me to go to work, "You wanna drive me to work or you got somewhere to be?"

"I've been needing to be somewhere…let's go. I gots to drop off my woman, you know…let those pussies know what's up."

Facepalming, "I'm not territory and I'm nobody's woman…"

"And my Walking Dead comics aren't yours, yet I've seen them under your pillow. Once you start wearing my shit, and taking it…you become my wom—"

"AND I'm going out to the car…I'm an independent woman—besides, those comics just so happened to be in MY territory."

* * *

><p>Searching through my inbox, I can't help but find Punk's ear-piercingly loud music distracting. The man just drums away on the steering music like it's gleeful, cheery music. Snaking my way over to the radio, I turn down the volume and continue reading through my phone like nothing's happened.<p>

_Randy: So, 1 of the women at catering has curly fckin' hair…I hadda txt you! How you been, gorgeous?_

As the end of my lips start curving up, Punk puts the volume on full blast and my lips shoot straight down. I turn my head and stare balls of fire at the side of his head. At the stoplight, boy turns my way and grins, "Turn that frown upside down, sunshine.", he tries to pinch my cheek but I bite him, "Ouch, somebody's feeling sadistic."

"No but it seems like you're in that mood. THAT music is making my ears bleed and here you are all smiley."

He clutches his heart, "This is like the equivalent of a church choir!"

I scoff, "Yeah…one burning in the deep trenches of hell."

Putting a hand on my mouth, Phil shushes me, "Stop before I feel obligated to throw you out of this moving vehicle."

I lick his hand and he scrunches his face and removes it, "Fine, fine…I'll stop.", I tell him.

_Me: That's cute? I've been…better? How about you? What are you doing?_

_Randy: Bttr? That's convincing. Jst missing Ads and Sam. It's hectic as hell. I NEED A BREAK! Breaking the diet w/ John, Trish, & Amy._

Randy mentioning 2 of my all-time favorite divas makes me mark the fuck out. Phil stops the car suddenly, "WHAT THE HELL?"

Sending him a sorrowful smile, "Got a little too excited…go on."

_Me: Drop by & we'll catch up! Aw—Wait, Sam? OMG I LOVE THEM! Thanks for making Punk almost kill us.._

_Randy: FishNChips, FishNChips! Yeah, WE'LL catch up! LMAO, they sent you XOXO…Punk? Woah, somebody got a bf._

_Me: Fine. When's that? SHUT UP. We're just…SHUT UP._

_Randy: Smetime round Mania? Its in Chicago! LOL yall just… fuckin?_At this I blush madly and chuckle a bit. I spot the parlor not far off and decide to reply and put my phone in my pocket.

Pulling up in front of the parlor, I groan. Not because I hate my job—which I don't—just the fact that I'm lazy as fuck. Sucking it up, I undo my seatbelt and take one last look in the mirror, "You look beautiful…you don't need to impress anybody."

Struggling to contain my smile, "What you talking about? Of course I do! I'm young, single, and lookin' for a sugardaddy.", I state.

Punk frowns, "The fuck do you need a sugardaddy for? Sweetheart, no man will ever emasculate himself the way I do when I wash your panties."

I blush and smack him, "Fuck you."

"Whenever!", he says with a low chuckles.

My hand reaches for the door and Phil quickly undoes his seatbelt, walks around the front of the car, and open it himself. I sit there half taken away, "Okay?"

He frowns again, "You definitely don't know how to appreciate chivalry."

Rolling my eyes, "Why thank you, kind sir.", I grin mockingly, "That appreciative enough?"

"Somewhat.", he puts an arm around my waist and leads me to the sidewalk by the driver's side and pulls me to him.

I sway my attention to the surroundings because this whole PDA with him throws me off, "So…I gotta go to work…"

"I know, I know…just letting these bastards know to keep to themselves…", he replies with a smirk.

I poke my cheek with my tongue to avoid another smile, "Oh really? Last time I checked, I was as single as a dollar bill."

"Shit, I'm trying to change that, dollface."

My phone vibrates and I loosen his hold to read it, _Bree: Wrap it up, Juliet [; !_

Phil laughs and I turn around to see that Bree, JoAnne, Carlos, and Jee have all gathered around the front door with broad smirks. I flick the off before turning back to Punk, "I have to go.", I stand on my tippy toes to kiss his cheek, "What you gonna be doing all day, Prince Charming?"

"My lips are still sealed, Cinderella. If one thing's for sure, I'm working out."

I frown. His habit of refusing to let out info STILL frustrates me, "When are you going to tell?", I huff out.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, "As soon as you open up to me?", I freeze up, "Hey, hey…c'mon now. We had ourselves a good morning—don't start with that gloomy look."

"Just…", I gaze deeply into his beautiful eyes and soften up, "I'm trying."

He kisses my forehead, "I know…I'll see you at home.", he squeezes me and lets go. As soon as I start dragging myself to the front doors, he shouts, "Marleene!", I turn around. He strides towards me, puts a finger under my chin, and kisses me tenderly leaving me dazzled, "So they'll have something to tease you about, beautiful.", he says with a smirk.

Sure enough, upon entering the bitch, I get a shower of kissy faces and lip smacking. _Fuck you, Phillip, fuck you._

* * *

><p>Turns out that I should've just stayed in my warm, cozy bed today because at the moment, or for the past 5hrs of my life, I've been taking calls and scheduling appointments. None of those goddamn appointments are for me, I figure because of the scene involving me all those days ago. Top all of that and account for the dirty looks Claudia has been sending me. <em>I'm about to go Muhammad Ali on a bitch<em>… Not all is horrible, instead of lounging about; I've been working on my cover-up tattoo.

By the way I've let my hand work away, I'm going to be sporting a Japanese cherry blossom tree, that'll hopefully cover-up my old tat, with the words 'Leaving the past, staying in the present, moving towards the future.' Everything looks good, should be after a couple of sessions.

Doors open letting in a short gust come in making me shiver. My finger runs down the session list and nothing appears to be set for the time. I look up to greet the client and receive a thunderbolt of shock. Every tattooist stops what they're doing in shock and confusion.

Gulping a putting on my bravery mask, "Back to work!", slowly everyone does so. Nervously I confront this "client", "Alfredo, what the fuck are you doing here?", I spit.

Maybe I failed to mention but Alfredo is my ex from back before I date Punk. Throughout the years he grew into becoming one of the most influential gang leaders around Lockport—leader inside the Gangster Disciples. Obviously, all human life around here knows who this bastard is and is scared of the man who is flanked by his little crew of teenage gangbangers. Am I afraid? Yes. _There's a tragic story behind it my fear…always are stories for why people are scared… _

Alfredo taps his chin and laughs as well as his crew, "Why, I simply wanted to catch up…we got a lil' bit of history, you and me."

"I told you, I never wish to see your ugly ass face EVER. AGAIN."

He chuckles some more, "My…what a mouth you got on that doll-like face of yours…I guess it was always better with my—"

"NOT. ANOTHER. WORD. Not another one."

Raising his hands in defense, "Okay, down kitty, down.", he puts his hands down, "As I said, I came here to catch up with you, _preciosa_.", he tries to touch me and I slap him away.

I look at him with repulsion, "I'm not into talking cunt bastards like you.", I sneer, "Gangbanger my ass, ya'll just a bunch of overgrown, _putos _runnin' around like pussies from rivals…Haven't ya' heard? Real 'bangers reside in the CITY?"

Gasps resound around the parlor and one of Alfredo's bitches come front and center to try and defend their "honor". Alfredo holds him back. He sighs, "Stop with the 'Bad Bitch' act and let's go somewhere private and talk.", he growls tight-lipped

"No. I suggest you get out of Wes's parlor o—"

He pulls a strap from his jacket and holds it in firing position. People start screaming, causing a ruckus. My heart drops into the frying acid inside my stomach. _Why do I always get stuck in these situations? _My lungs seem to disperse and my nerves shake like a jackrabbit, "OR WHAT? DO WHAT I FUCKING SAY. I DON'T GOT YOUR SWEETASS TIME, BITCH."

Hell is loose in this damn establishment so I raise a hand, "EVERYBODY C-C-CALM DOWN!", I reach over to position his gun straight in between my eyes, "If you're gonna kill me, make sure I'll die on impact, pussy.", I start moving towards Carlos's office, "Leave your crew outside."

Alfredo snaps his fingers, "Outside, keep watch.", they oblige and trudge outside. The bitch turns to the patrons and workers, "Anybody come in for the girl, she's with an old friend."

* * *

><p>Upon entering Carlo's office, the man himself shoots straight up with a look of defiance and attempts to hold down the situation, but I just kick him out for his own good. Alfredo locks the door shut behind him and turns to me. Again, I feel like a fucking gazelle being preyed on by a starving lion. My bravado crumbles, piece by piece.<p>

The leader sits on the desk and I move away, "All by yourself you ain't so bad a bitch, huh?", he chuckles.

I wring my hands to control my shaking, "What do, do you want?"

Picking up a framed picture of my beloved bestfriend, Wesley and his father, Dips, he taps on it, "It's a shame, y'know, that he didn't die in pain…"

My head flames up and I stay planted trying to restrain myself but my fear is enough, "Rot in hell.", I say.

"Heard your girl, McKenzie, had his bastard…what was it?", I bite my lip, "Fine, fine…my cousin did good in not knocking you up. We don't need sluts in the family."

"You've got enough.",

In two steps he's over pinning me to the wall with his hand gripping my neck. My body trembles exudes fear. _Feels like Noah. This is his cousin after all…, _"I've had enough of that mouth. Don't you remember what I can do?", he whispers, running his disgusting fingers down my neck.

"J-j-just tell me what you want…"

He smirks, eating off of my fright, "At first I came here as a messenger but maybe I'll leave a satisfied client."

Uncomfortable shivers roll through me, "I don't bustdown."

"Once a prostitute, always a prostitute. Shit, last time I got a freebie…"

Flashbacks fly back and my breakfast threatens to pour out, "Sick son of a bitch.", I whisper.

He caresses my face, "Now, now don't cry. I'll just settle with leaving you this letter.", he releases me and I gasp for air. He throws a letter to me and pulls my hair, "On second thought…", he kisses me forcefully; fondling me through my shirt and a knock raps at the door.

"Marleene, _nena, entendimos que regresaste_!.", sings a cheery Thalia.

_Thank you. THANK YOU._ Alfredo lets go of me and motions me to keep quiet. I scramble for the letter and fix myself up as best I can, "Utter a word, bitch and you're as good as gone."

Shakily I nod. I stroll to the door and open it. Standing there with Eli in arms is Phil with a suspicious look in his eyes, "He-hey, Thalia…Rams…baby.", I say acknowledging them.

Giving me a onceover, he eyes Alfredo, "Hey girl…Alfredo, what you doing here?", Ramses asks handing me his kid.

He coos and I reply, "He's um…dropping by."

Ramses raises a brow, "Cuzzo, c'mon…you know we ain't want you around here."

"It's BIC to you, pussy."

"BIC, huh…what's it stand for? Big, ignorant, cunt? _Eres una desgracia a la familia_"

Alfredo sizes Ramses up, taking his gun out, "Watch yourself. You dunno who you talking to."

My friend clearly is less buff but taller than the gangbanger looks down at the gun and chuckles, "Really? You need a gun to defend yourself? Bitch, step out. Real men, they use their fists."

Tapping his foot, the leader points his gun at the baby wrapped in my arms and I panic, "No, no…please!"

Thalia begins to shout, "_No, no mi bebe no_!"

"You hear that? I suggest you move before something tragic goes down."

Ramses stands down, and Alfredo smirks, "Alright, _Chiquita_…this ain't the last you'll hear from me.", he caresses me and Ramses readily lunges to try and defend what honor I have left but, thankfully, Carlos restrains him.

* * *

><p>Long after the whole fucked up mess I got everybody into, I sit down on one of the counters crying my eyes out into Carlos's shoulder while patrons calm down upstairs with the employees as well. Ramses rants, pacing about as his wife, or soon-to-be wife, holds her baby tightly in her arms.<p>

"_Te-tenia tanto miedo_! I thought he…he was going to-to…oh god, Carlos…", my incoherency just lets the Californian know to what level I'm on the scared-o-meter.

He rubs my back to try to soothe me, "Babygirl, if he wanted cash—you coulda jus' givin' him…you know the safe code."

"NO! E-el queria…a mi! He wanted to fucking…his hands—he touched me…I felt—feel dirty.", I sob.

Once upon a time, on this Spanish talk-show…they had these real life hookers and the whole sorbet come on and talk about what it is they do. One in particular caught my heart and bled it out. They asked her if she was ever raped. With a straight face, she replied like it was nothing that yeah she had…multiple an occasion. Everybody gasped and held some teary-eyed the girl…an 18yr old babygirl. They asked her why she's a laid back about it. Her words haunt me to this day, '_It's happen to me so many times, I guess it's just normal. I don't feel scared—just mad that I don't get the money_.' In the short-time I was in her same business…the 3 different times I was raped—never was it 'just normal'. I'm scarred, broken, and changed—forever afraid but I just choose to wash away and try to move on.

"Pinche bastardo, hijo de la gran—I should've killed him when I had the chance all that time ago. He threatened my mujer, my son, and my friend!", rants Ramses.

A muscle car pulls up and I notice it to be Wes's. I suck in a breath and at my eyes and straighten up. I'm tense but Phil cannot know, God only knows how he'll react—or what he'll do. I eye, Rams and his family, "Go upstairs.", I command but they just stand motionless, "GO.", the powerwalk, "Carlos _no digas nada_. _Nomas _follow lo _que yo diga.",_ he sighs but nods.

No sooner that I finish fixing myself up does Punk come in with 2 little surprises: the kids. Dominick shrieks and runs into me. Jumpy and all, telling me a thousand things at once but stops and yells, "AUNTIE!", I scoop him up and smile, "I missed you."

"I-I missed you too, _mijito_."

Punk nods in acknowledgement at the former gangbanger, "Well who is this lil' princess?", coos Carlos uncharacteristically at the baby in Phil's arms.

"Name's Eli. Say '_Buenas tardes_'" Phil nudges to the clueless baby.

"Damn, just 18 years older and I'd go out with her.", jokes Carlos, "Can I hold her?"

Phil shrugs and hands her over and then approaches me, "Surprise!"

I smile at him, praying that he won't notice my puffy lips or eyes, "I'm actually caught off guard. It ain't my birthday, so…?"

"Just thought we could chill with the twerps…I know you've missed 'em. Got myself out of what I was up to and yeah… So, you're welcome.", he kisses me PG-ratedly.

"Yuck!", says Dom with his face scrunched up, "Get a room, Uncle and Auntie."

We all laugh, "Will do, Champ.", winks Phil.

My arms tire out so I set Mick's eldest down and hold myself as Punk's gaze locks me in place, "What?", I ask.

"You've been crying…", he whispers embracing me, "Who am I gonna beat up?"

I freeze, "N-nobody, just reminiscing about…Wes…yeah, I dunno I guess it's still a fresh wound afterall.", _even I feel unconvinced_.

"Hm…maybe some time at the park will be good afterall.", suggests Phil.

Carlos clears his throat to gets our attention, "She's cute as fuck…really looks like y'know."

Phil and I get the drift and smile, "Yeah…it's nice. I'm going to clock off early, that okay?"

"Don't worry I got you covered…we're just gonna get drunk tonight…so yeah."

I embrace Carlos, "Text me if anything.", I whisper and he nods.

Phil does that bro thing and Dom says 'bye'.

* * *

><p>Sometimes, most of the time, I believe that it's all a lie…being an adult rocking and shit. The reality is, it sucks ass. Growing up isn't what it seems. Drama, drama, and more drama; mix in deceit, heartbreak, wrinkles, and need for money—it's hell. <em>And to think that I was in such a hurry to grow up<em>… Watching Dominick monkey around with other children: just another reason is why being a kid is so much better.

A tiny life-form wiggles and coos in my arms which catches my attention. This kid, one that I've neglected—the world has neglected, has grown so much in such a short time. Barely 2months old and to me she's grown too much. Staring at her, I see a mixture of Wes and Micks. Like Phil, I feel a sense of calm. I no longer feel the need to have her away, looking into that angelic face does that.

"I'm back! Miss me?", announces Phillip with a pink diaper bag and Batman blankie slung on his shoulder.

I smile genuinely, "A fraction of a bit. You look cute…almost daddy material."

Punk scoffs, "A fraction, you're cold. Not trying to be conceited—what the hell, I'm fucking cute and you're pretty. Switch it and we'll make pretty cute babies.", he winks.

I chuckle, "Yeah…right…"

"I see you've bonded with her…she's an easy truster.", he comments sitting next to me, "My 2 beautiful girls getting along, how adorable—makes me wanna cry.", he jokes. He wraps his arm around me and I tense up, "What's wrong?"

Pecking him on the cheek, "Chilly as fuck."

H snatches my blankie up and wraps it around me, "Better?"

"Much.", I stare around and then at him to make he ain't Alfredo and that the bitch's crew or bitch himself ain't around and lean into Punk, "Hug me back, tool."

He chuckles lowly, "Demanding…"

The letter in my pocket ruffles which eats at my fright and curiosity but I refrain from mentioning or opening. Yeah, I shaken up but being here, with Phil…the kids…enjoying the sunset is fine and calming—surreal and yet normal. It's cliché but cliché is better than anything else right now.

"Punk…"

"M'yeah?"

"You're making being stuck with you…bearable, you know?", he laughs, "Thanks for washing my panties…and all the extra shit you do for me."

He cocks his head at me, "Am I missing something?"

I frown slightly, "I'm being appreciative and you're soiling it, ass."

He zips his mouth, "Continue…"

I chuckle, "That was it…"

"Oh…does this mean you're letting me in?"

Leaning in, "Progressing.", I kiss him with passion and push my problems away—or try.


	56. Chapter 56

A/N- **_Mature situation ahead! _**_Let me know what you think or share any ideas…I'm feeling kinda lost without direction!_

Believe it or not, I once aspired to be a teacher, lit or social studies to be specific. To be that one teacher that students adore and admire. Pops encouraged me to pursue my dreams, no matter how far from home they'd take me or how much of his retirement money he'd have to give away. As long as I made a somebody out of myself, he'd be satisfied. And then Noah appeared; entered my life when I was at my weakest, entered with his smile and white horse, and swept me off my feet. Down the toilet went my dreams of becoming a teacher. All because this "Prince Charming" promised a "happy ever after", I stopped my looking for colleges and took up my trade: Art. Pops was disappointed but glad that I at least took up something morally and socially acceptable. Everything was fairytale perfect. I was loved, fixed, happy, cherished, and satisfied…Everything _was _fairytale perfect.

Perfect until the "prince" set fire to our book and his became Maleficent. I was awakened and came back into reality; everything just a dream of a girl that just needed TLC. With my return to reality, I realized all the time I'd spent in a fairytale, I'd had wasted important years in my life. Love and happiness came from herbs and strong drinks and sometimes from the people who stuck around. Art no longer could sustain my lifestyle or makeshift family, so I turned to the opposite of a princess…a slut. Drinking away memories so I wouldn't have to remember the scars and prints men left on my body…my soul. All of them in some form raping me…taking a piece of me with them.

A hand shakes my shoulder gently. Being that I was so deep in thought, without thinking, I quickly retaliate by punching the person square in the jaw. It takes me a couple of seconds to realize that I've just attacked Punk. He clutches his jaw, "Oh my fucking Jesus…oh my…", I ramble trying to control myself all while apologizing.

He moves his jaw around, "That was one hell of punch there, I got to admit.", he states playfully. Sitting next to him, I close my eyes definitely not in the mood to be all giggles and shit. I scratch my head and will myself not to cry. Fingers, Punk's, reach under my chin to angle my face towards him, "Hey, hey…it's okay. I'm used to heavier punches."

"It's not _that_…", I sigh. _I really don't want anymore questions._

"Look, you're not leaving this vehicle until you tell me what's wrong with you. I'm not blind or gullible…something's been up with you as of 3 days ago."

Opening my eyes, I gaze into his. I pick out the strands of golden and green that makes up the beautiful pigment they are. His face shows all signs of seriousness and worry. _God, I can't…_ I open my mouth as if to say something but close it until I think of a good lie. I stare at my nails, "I'm just tired…can we drop it?"

Phil intertwines our fingers to regain my attention, "You probably are since you haven't gotten rest with all those nightmares you've been having."

Wide-eyed and taken aback, "Tha-that's not true.", _but it is_…

"Doll, I sleep right next to you. I'm a light sleeper and I can hear you crying and mumbling in desperation. You go into this state of shock and just lay still."

Retracting my hand, I shake my head furiously, "You're making shit up…", _give up, tell him_…

"It's something about your past, isn't it?", he asks knowingly.

My lips purse, my defense crumbles, "No…"

"You shake almost every time I touch you, you get anxious whenever we go visit the kids, you shower constantly and scrub 'till you're raw—all of this is recent.", he sighs, "Let me in, Marleene…let somebody help you…"

Using my shaky hands, I pull my knees up and hug them, "I don't want you to leave me…I-I don't want you to realize that I'm a mistake…I'm nothing but I fucked up bitch tha-that ruined your life.", I whisper

Before I know it, Phil is at my side of the car, lifting me up bridal-style. He trudges all the way to the front door, momentarily digging around for the keys in his pocket, opens the door, sets me down on the armchair, comes back with a blanket, and lifts me onto his lap…like a baby. As soon as he's comfy, "I've stuck around for this long, Marleene. Quite frankly, I'd be surprised if you didn't have anything else lurking under your bed. So, talk to me."

Feeling no other way out, I give up, "Alfredo…he came in the other day."

"Alfredo?", he squints in thought, "That tool ass boyfriend you had?"

I nod my head, "He fe-felt me up…he almost took advantage of me. During my time out in the streets…um, putting out for cash…he-he uh…he…", I close my eyes and hear the shrills for help ringing loudly in my ear. I feel those bastards run their disgusting fingers across my skin, the laughs at my pain…everything.

"Marleene, come on tell me the rest…so help me God, I'm gonna ki—"

My finger silences him and I straddle him, "I don't want to remember, Phil…I want to forget.", I stare him deep in the eyes, "I want to move on…", I reach for his hands and run them along the my sides, "Make me forget…when a think of a man touching me…I want to think of you.", I whisper as I lean into kiss him.

"You're not okay, doll…I want to do this and not have you regret because last ti—"

Kissing my way to his ear, "There is a shitload of things I regret doing…you're not one of them."

* * *

><p>Standing up, I breathe in and take off my jean jacket along with my plain white tee. I turn feeling shy and slowly wiggle out of my black pants in front of Punk. He just watches my movements. I straddle him once more and grind against him as I kiss him. <em>I need this…<em>

He throws the blanket on the rug and lays me down, his eyes travel along my body as if he's never seen it. I stare away embarrassed at my flaws but he captures my lips, "You're beautiful…", he runs his hand along the contours of my body and I moan in anticipation, "You choose the sexiest undies…", he says with a smile which makes me chuckle a bit. _Wonderwoman inspired… _

Leaning up, I kiss him. I run my tongue along his bottom lip to which he opened and lashed out his tongue. My need for his touch grows, so I move against him. I chew up his bottom lip and earn a deep moan. I release him, "Stop teasing.", I say breathily.

He chuckles, "I'm trying to make you want me…so you won't regret this.", he takes off my panties and spreads my willing legs. Taking hold of my hand, he leads it down to my pussy and motions for me to play with myself which I do. He stares me down and I can't help but moan. My other hand is lead up to my tits and through my bra, I tease my nipples. In between lusty looks, breathless moans, and overall anticipation, I orgasm. I ride it out like a fucking wave.

That's when Punk himself steps in. He hovers over me leaning down to kiss my collarbone and down 'till he reaches my over-sensitized nubs and starts licking and biting one and another toying with his hand. My eyes close to take in all the emotions I'm feeling. Like a snake he nicks and licks his way down my pelvic area until he comes face to face with my overexcited pussy. Being a tease, he kisses my thighs and swipes at my clit…once. My body jolts. He leans over to kiss me while his fingers stay stimulating my pearl of nerves. I moan into his mouth. I can practically see him smirking. As I start reaching my peak again, I start bucking against his hand, panting.

"Tell me you want me…", he commands.

"Punk, don't you…oh God…Punk.", I whine as he starts slowing down.

"I needa know that you want this…that you want me."

My high floats away. I sit up to his surprise and put him down. Roles reversed, he's on the bottom while I work at taking of his jeans along with his boxer briefs. His dick pops up, oozing with pre-cum and that when he flips me over, again.

"Tell me."

Feeling his erection poking at my opening, I bite my lip but desist to resist, "Punk, I want you.", I whisper loudly. Sparing a second to discard his shirt, he pushes into me. I instinctively wrap my legs around his hips to feel more of him. He thrusts at a controlled pace as I run my nails down his chest. My eyes begin to roll to the back of my head as he hits my g-spot.

"Eyes open…I want to see you.", he commands, biting down on my should causing a moderately loud moan to sneak out of my mouth.

Eye to eye, body to body, I feel him pick up his pace surely reaching his own peak. I run nails along his back and that cute butt of his. He struggles to keep himself from releasing. I quickly use my body weight to flip him onto his back. I start to ride him, setting my own slow pace. His hand grip my hip and the other plays with my breast. I lean over rolling my hips, "You don't have to last…let yourself…go, prettyboy.", whisper into his ear. At this point I feel double time the man. The only sound I can hear is the sound of sweaty skin impacting and his groans.

"Fuck…Marleene…I'm gonna…", he starts but losing his train of thought

"You're gonna… what?", I ask seductively. I slow down just to tease.

"Jesus…", he closes his eyes.

"Uh, uh…eyes on me.", I lean over and he takes advantage and rolls us over so I'm on bottom.

Erratic thrusts push me over my limit and I hold on to him, moaning into his ear, "Phillip fucking Brooks.", and that when he spills into me ragged breath and all, he kisses me whispering sweet nothings.

Catching up on air, I sit up and lean against the abandoned armchair and just admire Punk. When he too is caught up on air, he sits down with a lazy smile on his face, "What you staring at, beautiful?"

"You.", I respond with a lazy smile of my own, "I think you're pretty…"

He leans against the armchair pulling me into him and covering us with the blanket, "Did you have anything to drink before I went to pick you up from the parlor?"

"2 shots of Tequila…?", I answer, "but either way, you're pretty.", I laugh, "And you make me feel loved…and I should stop talking…"

He chuckles and kisses my messed up hair, "I just hope you feel the same when we wake up…"

* * *

><p>As I begin to scrub myself clean, I realize that having done what I did with Phil didn't change the feeling of dirtiness. It did however make my feelings for him increase and find him as a safe zone. A sanctuary. Tears run down my face as I continually scrub myself raw.<p>

Getting out and drying myself off, I decide that it's time to consult Dr. Betty Azalea. I may or may not be ready to talk but I'm determined to move on with my life and hopefully move on with Phil in it.

Poking my head out of the bathroom, I hear no sound of Phil, he left, so I quickly dash into my room to retrieve the letter that bastard Alfredo gave me. I stuff it in the pocket of my robe and make breakfast for Micks.

Entering her room, I find her "watching" t.v as usual. I set her tray down and sit next to her on the bed. I smile at her and tear the letter open to reveal that it's from my nightmare: Noah.

_Marleene,_

_I'm writing this letter to you with little hope that you'll actually read it. But if you do, I just wanted to let you know how fucking sorry and guilty I am. No words or actions will ever hide the fact that I destroyed your life. I can't put in words…on paper how sorry I am. Do know that all I did was to get you back because I love you. Always have, always will. My only wish is to get to see you at least once during my time serving so I can formally apologize and be able to live with myself. I don't expect much but It'd mean a lot if you could just come and hear me out…one last time._

_Forever yours,_

_Noah_

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. _Fucking bastard…_ Tears of pure fury and every word that is its' equivalent. My hand crushes the stupid piece of paper and I shake with sadness and anger. _The audacity! _At the same time, I lie to myself. No matter what I've tried, my heart still feels for him. Because after all he has done, I love him. Probably always will. Tears drip down my cheeks at all of these overwhelming emotions. _I've been through so much in a so little time…can't I ever just get a breath of fresh air?_

Not only is he right about having ruined my life but he also took away the people who'd know how to help me. How to guide me to make the right decision. I turn to look at Micks how just stares at me blankly.

"Come back, babes…come back and tell me what in the fuck to do…", I whisper in between sobs. I hug her tight without response. _I feel so alone, again…_

After a while, to my alarm and surprise she hugs me back and finally speaks up, "You know what to do…always do.", at this point my tears are a mix of joy that she has awoken from her silence and another of desperation and overwhelm for my problems and past never cease to leave me alone.

"but this time I really don't know how to keep on…", _Wes…you should come back._


	57. Chapter 57

_A/N- Thought Marleene needed to step out of her dark place for a while. _

_Raw is bumming me out! The weak storylines, people…I miss the Attitude Era—that shit was full of unexpected nonsense—ENTERTAINING NONSENSE!_

_So yeah, drop me some PMs or Reviews/Comments…letmme see what ya'll thinking. Enjoy!_

From watching Claire struggle to regain her memory on LOST to watching how this chick manipulates the men around her on Rubi to reading about the struggles of Rick Grimes and his group of survivors in The Walking Dead, I find myself not being able to focus on shit for more than 10mins. My train of thought keeps returning to the same station; keeps bringing up my tainted past and the tragedies within them: Noah being the centric thought.

Checking the clock for the 20th time, I groan at it being just 10 in the morning. By me, I would've been at work since long ago but Carlos wants me to 'chill' until 12. Micks returned to her stoic way and in a non-verbal way kicked me out of her room earlier which ultimately left me to the tv, comics, a bottle of cheap liquor, and myself.

My phone vibrates giving my heart jump, almost making me tip over the open bottle next to me. I open it and smile. _Colt: Big bootaay! How I miss you ): As for the psychs info…I left it on top of the fridge. G2G though—workout! _Having asked him for Betty's packet almost escaped my mind. _Now I just gotta find the strength to get up._

Rolling my neck, I throw off my Batman blanket and stand up to stretch my cramping muscles. Looking at the sight around me, I figure that I could waste time productively by actually doing the maid work. _You can always just take a little nap…_Shaking myself off, I head over to my room and dig under my bed for my stereo. _Where are my CDs? _After scrounging around the perimeter of my room, I only manage to find a couple of my cassettes.

Lugging my stereo and cassettes over to the table, I place them down and randomly pop in one of the cassettes. A smile graces my face when I hear the all familiar cumbia beat of the oldies band Angeles Azules. _Cumbia mix, fuck yes! _Feeling the beat overtake my body, off goes my robe revealing that I'm in only a black v-neck and Ninja Turtles undies. Turning up the stereo not giving a damn about the neighbors, I commence my cleaning spree. _Let's get shit done…_

* * *

><p>12 songs later, I'm here in the kitchen multi-tasking: washing dishes, cleaning the counters, scrubbing the stove, and sweeping. My stereo is still on full blast with Sonora Dinamita which makes it difficult for me not to dance or sing along.<p>

Sweeping the floor, I shriek as the first notes of my favorite cumbia starts. Running over, I turn up the volume just a bit more and start sweeping…well more like dancing with the broom. _It's a very good thing I'm alone… _

"_Y yo que te deseo a morir, que importa esta es la última vez, el orgullo puede esperar pero me arrepiento en el piso donde sea y tómame._", I sing and smile at the distant memory of my old man reprimanding me for saying something so _explicit. _

So enthralled in the music and cleaning and jamming, I'm completely unaware of my observer until I hear the voice directly behind me say, "Don't know what's more sinful, the way you're moving or that voice of yours."

My body jumps 20ft before turning around to face a smirking, sweaty Punk. Clutching my chest, "You asshole! What I tell you about doing that?", I yell both because he nearly scared the piss outta my intestines and from embarrassment.

He laughs, "You were all into the music, I couldn't find it in my heart to interrupt the show."

Pushing past him to retrieve my robe, "I'm happy to hear you enjoyed it."

Hugging my from behind, "Aw come on, don't get all upset…I wasn't fucking, you heated up the whole house dancing the way you were…shit, I need a cold shower.", he says kissing the side of my head.

Shrugging him off, "Sure…what are you doing home so early?", I ask going back to pick up the broom.

Gasping, "What? You're not relieved that I'm home early?", I bite my cheek to keep from smiling, "Now, I know to never come home early…people are so unappreciative.", he says coming over and sitting atop one of the counters.

"NO!", I yell…_too late_, "that's wet.", I chuckle

Punk frowns, "Thanks for the warning."

"That's what you get.", I reply sticking out my tongue.

Drying my hands, I lean against the sink and look up to the 6ft wrestler who stares at me with his signature smirk. These days as I am usually awake when he manages to sleep, I observe him as he sleeps. His face aside from his scruff is young looking, doesn't even look older than 25. His hair is silky and straight, which makes me fucking jealous. Don't even get me started with his eyebrows 'cus I fucking love them. My weird side adores his nose, perhaps because it's straight and I don't even know. Undeniably, it's his eyes that pull me in and manipulate me like a puppet.

"Woohoo, beautiful…", he signs, waving a hand in front of me.

I blink, "What?"

"I was just rambling and you spaced out…I'm hurt."

I laugh, "Sorry.", I actually look at him and notice that he has a cut lip and a forming bruise on his cheek. I gasp, "The hell? You get yourself into a fight?", I ask standing on my tippy toes to get a better look.

He tucks his hair behind his ear, "Don't get your panties in a bunch…I was just fooling around with one of my guys."

"Get off the counter and sit on a chair.", I command as I stride over to the fridge to get some ice.

"It's nothing big, beauti—"

"Do what I said.", he groans and hops off the counter. Retrieving some wrap and towel, I move over to the wrestler and press the ice to his cheek. He winces, "Playing around you can get hurt…get a concussion or something…", I reprimand.

Punk stares at me rolling his eyes, "May I remind you, I'm a wrestler. Bumps and bruises are part of the job."

"Still, if you ain't in the ring because you have to…I'd rather you not be in it or fuck around like that."

He rubs my arms, "Don't get all worried abou—"

"I'm not worried.", I cut in, "I just don't like and or want to see you hurt.", I correct.

Pulling me down so I'm sitting on his knee, "Why?", he asks with that smirk of his.

"What do you mean 'why'? I'm not sadistic…I don't like seeing you get hurt or hurt in general.", I move the ice to his lip, "You got anymore bumps?"

He lifts his shirt to reveal a forming bruise on his side. I touch it gently and he winces, "Told you…just bruises."

I glare at him, "Still…I didn't like seeing them on you 10yrs ago and I still don't like them today."

Punk's smirk softens up, "Why, huh?"

Rolling me eyes, "Because I care about you, dumbfuck…", I mutter.

"You what?"

"I care about you.", I reply with more sincerity yet embarrassedly avoiding his gaze.

He kisses my cheek, "Ego booster to know such a pretty little woman still cares about me."

I smile, "Be quiet.", staring at him directly, "These are probably kinky sex injuries…BDSM shit…from that hussy of yours."

Punks chuckles until he's out of breath, "I don't think BDSM is violent as fuck.", I raise a brow, "Not that I know from experience…that's not me.", he grazes the sides of my thighs, "The only lovin' I've been getting is from you.", he says with a wink, "You did a number on my back, now that I remember.", he removes me from his knee and rotates throwing off his shirt to reveal claw-like marks along his back. I gasp, "The guys got a kick out this."

Blushing and hiding my face in my hands, "It was intense…", I mumble.

Turning around and gripping my hips lightly, "Then I suppose I fulfilled myself as a gentleman.", he states with a wide grin, "I'd tell you to quit being all shy but…damn, it's fucking adorable especially with these panties of yours…"

Blushing even more, "Great to know you still find my shyness cute…and my great choice of undergarments."

We both laugh, "Everything about you I find attractive…and well, between you and me…", he leans in to whisper in my ear, "I like your underwear better when they're on the floor."

I gasp, "You dirty bastard!", he chuckles, "You're lucky that I don't have time to add to your collection of bruises."

Walking in the direction of my room with Punk close behind, "Do you really have to go?", he whines.

"Gotta make that paper, big boy.", I state looking for something comfy to wear.

He circles my waist, "I can take care of you.", he mumbles into my hair.

"You could, but I like to consider myself independent."

Groaning, "Can I at least make a proposition?"

Raising a brow, "Go ahead…"

Letting me go and sitting on the edge of our shared bed, "So, I was thinking…we've been fooling around for some time now…", _already I'm not liking where this is going_. I nod, "I also mentioned that I want to get to know you…so, I think it's only appropriate that I ask you out on date."

"Um, we've sort've skipped past first base, honey…what's the point?", I ask going about rummaging through my drawers.

"Point is, we don't know much about each other…at least not anymore. Plus, I'd love to take you out, make you smile, and hopefully get your mind off of things for a while."

Debating on what to say, "You want something serious…"

He shrugs, "Alls I know is that I want you: in every aspect of the word 'want'. For as long as you'll let me have you."

Stopping what I'm doing and facing in his direction, "You've told me a million times but…", my train rolls by.

"I see right through this wall of yours, I do. You're scared as hell, who wouldn't be? After all you've been through; I'm surprised that you even let me touch you. You're all closed up because you don't want to be screwed over but…honestly, if I planned to screw you over, I woulda left months ago because crying over and caring for a 'crazy, fucked up bitch' wouldn't have been on the agenda.", he slides off the bed and crawls over to me, "So, what do you say? Date?", he pulls the puppy-dog eyes.

Between his puppy-dog eyes and convincing speech, I'm all caught up. _Face it, the man preaches the truth_… He does, I am just scared. I've given and been ripped of parts of myself. Paste, staples, and tape hold me together. _You said you want to move on…with him…_ I do but then come all my insecurities about not being the right girl and his status with Maria. _Before he was left, he was readying himself. He stuck with you through all of the happenings…_ No denying that. _You've said time and time again that you feel safe when you're with him…_

With my conscience speaking and convincing me, I smile tenderly, "Fuck it."

Punk's eyes brighten up, "Fuck it…what?"

"I would love to go out on a date with you, Phillip.", he scrunches up his face making me laugh, "So…what's gonna be tonight's attire? Fancy, casual…?"

"Semi-formal…doesn't really matter just as long as you're looking decent.", he looks me over, "Which is going to be difficult, considering that you're a walking sin.", he smirks

I laugh, "Fuck you!"

He sits up and pulls me into him, "Now, why would you suggest something so fun when you're running late?"

Immediately pulling out my phone, I groan and sink further into Punk's embrace, "These fuckers lucky I'm so desperate to go in…'cus it's payday…"

"Thought it was your passion and way of being independent."

Shrugging, "Not much these days. After the whole incident with Al—", I clear my throat, "Alfredo…I guess people just think I'm trouble or too messed up or they're just afraid that I'll murders them with the tat gun…", leaning into the subject just fucks up my mood.

Turning me around to face him, Punks kisses my forehead, "They just don't know the progress you're making.", he stands up and lifts me to my feet, "If it makes you feel any better, the patrons, the male ones, sure do love talking about you still.", I smirk at Punk's displeasure, "Ah, I knew you'd love that."

Shaking my head, "Not really…makes me kinda more alert—I mean, it's good for the ego but I'm not sure that male attention is what I want right now.", Phil frowns, "Except, maybe, yours…", I kiss his cheek and walk off to the bathroom, picking up his Pikachu shirt, "You won't getting this one back!" I dash to the bathroom hearing him right behind me.

* * *

><p>Standing in front of one of the windows that gives a view of the parlor, I sip some of my mocha frappe while waiting on Punk to get his coffee. My paranoia has gotten the best of me. Ever since Alfredo's visit, I have a tendency to look around the area for potential danger.<p>

Punk walks up next to me, staring out the window, "Somebody catch your eye?", he questions jokingly.

Shaking my head, "Nope. Just trying to brainstorm a mediocre lie as to why I am…", I check my cell, "45mins late."

"Why not just tell the truth? Tell 'em you were getting down and dirty.", he suggests with a shit-eating grin.

Scoffing, "My sex life is nothing they should know about.", I take a sip of my mocha, "Besides, I was getting down trying to steal the shirt from you…_cual sexo ni que nada_.", I smirk.

Punks pouts, "You're making me look like a pussy for your co-workers."

At his pouty face, I laugh, "I'm a woman. Women don't go around telling _todo el mundo que es lo que hacen dentro de cuatro paredes con los hombres que no son sus novios_."

"Okay? I only understood something about 4, the world, a boyfriend, and that you're woman who doesn't tell.", after a moment he appears to have pieced them together, "Oh…I like this, very much."

Rolling my eyes, I nod. My phone vibrates, _Bree: So Car's fone died…when r u cmin? U got clients! _I raise an eyebrow and grin. After all this time doing appointments…it's great to have bodies to tat up. Texting her back, I stare up at Punk who just stares at me, "What's wrong? There something on my face?", I ask using my phone's screen as a mirror.

"Nothing, just enjoying the moment, beautiful.", he replies with a lazy smile.

I nod, "Well, that was Bree…I kinda, really need to get a move on…"

Gesturing to the door, "Ladies first."

* * *

><p>"Oh my God, Phillip Jack! STOP! You're scaring the whole street!", I plead in between laughs. There in the middle of the street, one will find a 6ft wrestler attempting to breakdance.<p>

Dusting himself off and jogging to my side, "Just trying to show you wrong, white people CAN dance."

Bursting into another fit of laughter, "Oh dear Lord.", I run a hand down my face to control myself, "Sweetie, that is a great example of my theory being right. Looked like you were having a seizure."

Phil spits out his coffee, "HEY!"

Arriving to my destination, I take a moment to peek through the windows, just in case and turn to a glowering Punk, "I'll give you a point just because that was quite possibly the highlight of my day, yeah?"

He scoffs, "Highlight of your day…for now. We still got out date this evening."

"Oh yeah.", I manage not to let my smile dip. It's not that I don't want to go on it, it's that I haven't been on a date in the longest. With my paranoia and guard up, I don't know how enjoyable it'll be.

Rubbing my hand, "Don't doubt me just yet, alright?", _he reads minds…he does_.

I shrug, "Nah…just me overthinking…"

He hugs me, "Well just relax. I'm usually a pessimist but I'm feeling quite optimistic about tonight.", he holds me a arm's length, "Maybe it's because I'm taking the one and only Marleene Soto out."

Laughing quietly, "Yeah, maybe…", I double-check my phone, "So how is this going down?"

"Smart question.", he pulls out his wallet, "I know how you women like to primp and pamper yourselves for these things, not that YOU need any of that, so here's a couple bills to cover it."

As he slips some money into my shirt, I shake my head, "No, I can handle that…I'm getting paid."

"Come on, I'm on a gentlemen streak right now…", says Punk with his puppy-dog eyes and pout.

Softening up, "Fine…fine, just so you'll be able to show that streak off."

Smirking, "Good girl. Now, I'll be scooping you up here…at the parlor…around 7ish."

"Sounds good.", I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, "Thanks, for the Starbucks and everything…"

Snaking his arms around my waist, "So no regrets, huh?"

Furrowing my brows, a light bulb flickers on and I gaze into his eyes, "No. Don't let it get to your head but…being with you…I don't know—you're what my Batman blanket is to me."

Thinking on it, "Amazing?", I bury my head in his shoulder laughing, "Geez…Safety.", I nod, "Marleene, oh my dear, Marleene…you are making a softy out of me.", he kisses my nose.

Somebody taps on the glass window behind us and announces, "Wrap it up! This is torture to some of us single ladies!", I laugh knowing that it's Bree.

"Duty calls."

Punk leans in to kiss me. Soft and tenderly; free and carelessly. We let up for oxygen, "I'll let you fly…see you later, missy.", unwrapping myself from him, I nod, "I love you…", he whispers almost inaudibly.

Something about this morning opened the cage to trapped butterflies. Of course, I'm still fucked up, scarred, and damaged but right now…I'm just the innocent Marleene who loved a certain punk name Phil: the one who smiled, laughed, played around freely—Marleene the one who wasn't fucked up, scarred, or damaged.

"Well somebody's all lovey-dovey and smiles today…", sings Bree.

_A/N- So how was that? Hopefully worthy of your thoughts! I promise that next chapter will be Punk and Mar's date!_


	58. Chapter 58

_**A/N- **I'm baaaaaaack! Miss me? No...okay ]:_

_Soooo sorry, I kinda felt so uninspired and LIFE tends to get in the way. I pushed through and created this! I actually like it, somewhat. Whatever, ya'll can be the critics...so, please...help a girl out by R&R. I missed this. PM me or whatever with comments all that good shit. I've caught up with Raw and Smackdown-GODDAMN, I LOVE MAD PUNK! Sorry for any grammar but I have this thing with going back lol.  
><em>

"You act like the man ain't ever seen that shit naked." Sniggers Carlos while highfiving a laughing Jee

Opening and reopening my mouth, I fail on coming up with a quick remark, "Shut the fuck up!"

Bree comes over with a cigarette in between her index and middle finger, "You guys, come on…leave her alone." I smile at her, "Ya'll just jello that she's getting some on a daily basis." she adds starting up the laughter once more

My mouth drops, "My sex life…lack of one…isn't a topic for discussion!" I whine, "All I wanted was an honest opinion on my attire for tonight." I state with a pout

Calming down enough to speak, "We're just messing around; no need to get your panties in a twist, that's if you've got any." Speaks up Jee trying not to kill his straight face, "You're dressed to kill, Mar."

Traveling from toes to my chest, I find myself still feeling too plain. Draped in this simple forest green, ruched dress that Bree sneaked out of the house, I feel a bit too flabby; given the fact that I've put on more than just 'a couple' of pounds. _You and your insecurities. _

"You look like a center piece, Curlyfries. Pretty sure that white boy don't want to be holdin' onto a bag of sticks. Head up." voices Carlos from his place atop his desk.

Sending a weak smile, I nod. My hands fumble through Bree's makeup bag trying to find a mirror to touch up my makeup, "Here." says said woman, pushing a pair of faux peacock feather earrings in front of me, "Sterilized and ready to be utilized!"

With a brow raised, "Girl, you must not remember BUT curly hair and earrings are like oil and water…they don't mix."

Tapping the tip of my nose with her manicured nail, "Not unless said hair is in an updo, like it is now." she replies with a smirk. An eye roll later, peacock earrings are on, "Oh don't forget to ta—"

Vibrations motorboat my boobs, eyeing the caller ID, the corners of my lips turn up in less than a snap of a finger. A short text alerts me that Phil is about to arrive which sets free the caged butterflies in my gut. In matter of milliseconds, I'm in a frenzy trying to check myself, my pulse, and everything else.

Jee and Carlos smirk to each other and attempt to sneak out of the room, "YOU TWO..." I snap, and they wince, "BETTER NOT DO SOMETHING OR SAY SOMETHING!" I warn them.

They rush by leaving me with an all too relaxed Bree, who just sits on Carlos's desk smoking her cig, "Baby, calm your tits…you look like a modern-day princess."

Snatching her cig, I take a puff and give it back, "I haven't been on a date with somebody else other than…you-know-who…in years!" I cry

Handing me my flats, "Like Casanova said, ya'll have seen each other butt-naked…nothing to worry about. You could go out in a potato sack and he'll still want that ass." hopping of the desk, she takes hold of my shoulders and nudges me towards the parlor's work floor, "Slip on the flats once you know you're about to collapse…and have fun!" she peps

Blinkers momentarily blind me letting me know that the one and only Punk is here and waiting. Biting my lip and playing with my sweaty hands, I cautiously approach the guy as he chats up my two friends.

May I repeat, I love when men dress-up. I don't just love it…it makes me wet! _Sucia._ It's true, though. Running my eyes over Phil, up and down, down and up… I can hardly breathe, barely contain my saliva. Boy just stands there with a bouquet of my favorite colored roses, wearing a leather jacket that hides his fitted set of dress-shirt and grey vest and the whole deal.

"Seems like your little date has finally emerged, Punk." announces Jee teasingly

Shaking my head, I send him the bird and quickly navigate my hand in an attempt to look like I was just fixing my hair as Punk turns around.

Both of us just stand taking in each other not quite sure what to say. That is until an exaggerated coughs bring us back to life, "It's getting a bit late, youngins…best be on your way." says Carlos as he ushers us out the parlor, "Don't come home too late…and use rubbers!" and with that the Cali native closes the door on us.

My forehead greets my hand, "He really needs a muzzle." I mumble through my embarrassment

Punk chuckles, "I like the dude." an air of awkwardness breezes through, "These are for you, mademoiselle." He says handing me the bouquet, "May i say, you look…wow." he finishes off

Smelling the roses, "Didn't think you'd remember…" I whisper to the wind before paying him attention, "Me? Ha…you clean up well, Mister Punk." I reply trying to soften out the awkwardness

"Give credit to the stylist…I feel like I'm punching above my weight with you looking all…" he shoots me a suspicious look, "You sure you ain't going on this date because of pity?"

"Wow, never thought I'd see the day that Phil Brooks would lack arrogance."

Snorting, "Confidence, cutie, and it's a once in a lifetime thing, sweetcheeks." he moves towards the rumbling muscle car and opens the passenger, "Your carriage, madam." he ushers with a bow

Smiling at his playfulness, "Why...such a fine gentleman you are." I joke

"The ball awaits us, Cinderella!" and with that we're off in unknown direction. _Unknown to me…_

* * *

><p>Streetlight upon streetlight passed us by until we landed ourselves in the grand city of Chicago. My gut feeling tells me that we're going to pass by that damned place, one that scarred both of us physically and mentally. When we don't head that way, I open my eyes and focus on being worry-free...<em>for tonight at least.<em>

Wes's cherished car comes to a halt, settling in between two expensive looking SUVs. Lifting a brow, "What you got up your sleeve?"

Nothing comes from my date except a sly smirk. He opens his side door, runs over to mine and gives me his hand, "Watch your step, God only knows how you women walk in those."

Rolling my eyes, I hide my flats under the seat and grab my clutch, "He should, he made us second for perfection." I reply with a tiny chuckle

"It _does_ show..." replies Phil thoughtfully. Giving me a second thought, "We're going to walk a bit..." he takes off his jacket, "It'll keep you warm, somewhat." he comments holding it out for me

Those damned butterflies emerge once more tinting my cheeks with a blush, "Where'd all this come from?" I ask putting an arm through

"Mm, watching sappy romantic movies? I excel in being a hopeless romantic as well as being a gentleman." he answers with that panty-wetting crooked smirk of his. He intertwines our hands beginning to walk to our destination.

Stopping him for a moment, I lean up to kiss her cheek and whisper, "You'd be surprised where being a gentleman could lead you..."

Eyeing me with a mix of knowing and confusion, "You trying to imply something..._else_?"

Smirking, I strut ahead, "Take it how you want it."

"You're a fucking tease, Marleene!" he shouts as he runs up behind me and spins me around making me squeal.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Giggling amongst ourselves, Phillip declares that we have arrived. Cocking my head at the sight in front of me, I can't quite tell if he's joking or what. Dragging us forward, Phil opens a door for me and leads me in. Scratching my head, I look around at the atmosphere and feel out of place. We've entered a restaurant that goes by the name of Florence which by the name and smell is obviously Italian. Furthermore, this is one of those more fancy, upper-class restaurants. If I know anything about the world, people like me don't belong here unless we're escorts or sugarbabies.

Stuck in the walls of my mind, I fail to realize the young man talking to me. Punk waves a hand in front of me, "Huh?" I blink

"While you were in Lala Land, I was just introducing you to my friend, Bruce."

Shooting my date a warning glare, I stick out my hand, "So sorry, hopefully dumdum didn't speak lies..." I laugh nervously, "I'm Marleene, by the way."

This Bruce man is not so bad on the eyes, he has an adorable smile, "So you're the Marleene this jerk has been babbling about for the past couple of weeks!...I'm Bruce, nice to meet ya." he shakes my hand

Turning to Phil, who is mouthing something and shaking his head, "What have you heard?" I mutter

Nervous chuckles come from the man, "Nothing, just how beautiful you are...and everything in between. By the way, that little _number _you did on him gave the workout gang a good laugh, thank you." _WHAT?, _"You got him hooked." It's now Phil's turn to glare at his friend, "Not too sure as to why'd you want to reel in this buffoon, though." he laughs as do I, "On a serious note, I've never seen Punk so...how should I put it? _Enticed_...well not counting Ma-"

Pulling me into him, "YEAH...or perhaps I just swooned her with my chivalrous, gentleman ways..." he shrugs kissing my temple

"Who says I've been swooned?" I ask feistyly earning myself a chuckle and frown

"ANYWAY...Bruce, my man, you think you can hook us up?" asks Phil with those undeniable puppy eyes of his

Checking the coast for clearance, "You're in luck, we just had a couple cancel...so you guys just act like Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom." Phil and I just stare each other and burst into giggles, "I know, I know-that's how I reacted too." comments Bruce, "Follow me, please."

Following the tall man's footsteps as we pass by the dining room filled to capacity, it seems, I smack Punk in the arm, "You asshole!" I spit

"What'd I do?" earns him another smack, "Hitting men is still considered abuse."

"No fucks are given...your happyass told _THEM_ about our _stuff_!" I exclaim loud enough to alert the clients around us. Hushing myself, "What in the fuck, Phillip?"

Putting his hand on the small of my back to help me up the stairs, "They saw that shit in the showers, what'd you expect?" I frown not wanting to face defeat, "I've yet to tell...well, I did kind of kiss-and-told Colt BUT-"

I whoosh around almost falling to my death, "YOU TOLD HIM?" my voice comes off as a shrill, "My God, PHIL!" stomping my way up the stairs wanting to just disappear. _Things will never be same between Colt and me..._

Reaching the last step, Punk speaks up, "Oh come on, it's not like you haven't told anybody..." he gives me 'the look'. Wide-eyed, I stumble and stutter over words. _Caught red-handed..._ Lowering my gaze, I admit defeat, "Exactly." he says triumphantly

Mousing around various tables full of chattering parties and the like, we finally stop at a table set for two, the glassware and candles and all. Our host tells us that he'll be sending a waiter, says 'Bon Appetit', and winks at me as he leaves. Attempts to leave but the indie-wrestler holds him back to whisper something to him which earns him a questioning look and a nod...then the hostess leaves.

Holding out the chair for me, Phil gestures for me to sit. With a curt 'thanks', I plant it. The guy settles himself in and we sit in silence, well I sit in annoyance by what I just learned of, "Mar, you can't honestly be all that mad? You're gonna get wrinkles, girl."

I huff and pick at my fingernails, "It just bothers me...call it whatever but kissing-and-telling differs between men and women."

Punk laughs to himself, "You act like a defiled you! All I told the kid was what went down..." he moves loose strands from his eyes, "No details. None. Zip. Zero. Just mentioned, I'm going to sound like either a perv or creep, that it was how I dreamed it would be."

"Oh..." I mumble down casting my eyes to observe my simple black heels, "He won't let me live it down..._ever_, will he?"

"Pretty much. At least he hasn't pestered you, look." he shows me a couple of texts of dear old Colt that make me blush beyond belief, "Yeah."

"Is it true? I've got you _enticed_, big boy?" I ask coyly

* * *

><p>Growing up the lower middle-class, barely that, my family and I scarcely ever dined out and if we did...we'd just head out to some <em>taqueria<em>. Something so plain as that meant so much to me because I'd get to spend time with my family, especially my dad who spent most of his day and afternoon working. A dollar away from being poor and yet were happy...or tried to be.

Sitting here in this room full of important looking civilians, in a luxuriously decorated dining room with a dancefloor illuminated by a grand chandelier, siting on handmade chairs, using cutlery worth more than all my grandma's china put together, eating mouthwatering food, in the company of the young lad in front of me, I wonder how in the world I'd gotten here-and of course how will we pay this shit off.

"You're rather quiet..."

Taking a morsel of food off my plate, I eye it down, "Just...I feel awkward." I laugh awkwardly, "This is above and beyond...The fanciest joint I've been to is Maude's-a freakin' bar."

Wiping excess food from his mouth, "You seem to blend in well...almost have that air of rich bitch to ya'." he replies, "I, on the other hand, look like a male escort_...", _boy winks my way and I feel like my panties have burned off.

Opening my mouth to reply with a pinch of flirt, the maitre'd pops up as if out of the blue-her name's, Alicia...another of Punk's friends. Story is that they were in training together and lived with each other for some time. Letmme just say, I don't mind women being around him-he ain't marked territory- as long as their intentions are innocent. But, damn...Alexa is far from 'just being friendly'. Might as well smother Punk with her tits!_ I_ _mean the girl bends over so over-exaggeratedly! _Not only that but also, she giggles at every-fucking-word the man speaks as if he's Katt Williams or some bullshit, flipping her ratchet ass weave like it's graceful. _Stupid, big-titty bitch! _Much to my discontent, Phillip bites into it.

Having enough of this, I tap her ass making her squeak and turn my way, "Could you stop trying to feel up on MY date? Do your job and get us some cider...any cider." when she death glares at me, I smile toothily, "C'mon now...chop, chop!"

Flustered, she saunters off leaving behind an amused Punk. Full knowing smirk and gleam in his eyes, "Somebody's jealous" he jibes proudly

Almost choking on my water, "Oh please...sweetums, if you want _that_, by all means, go get it. I'll switch places." I suggest sarcastically

He splutters with laughter, "You're something...really."

* * *

><p>"I was about 2 or 3 when my parents decided to get me all holyfied-meaning, baptized-so they threw a big ol' cookout and invited the entire family. As a tradition at every Mexican kid party, a pinata is always included. So they, the kids, wanted to bust that motherfucker opened and well...being the selfish toddler I was, I took that pinata hostage." Punk bursts into laughter, "I fell asleep with Nico and when I woke up...he was in bits all over the ground."<p>

Punk at this point is tapping his hand on the table, "Such a good pinata, he was."

Halfway through dessert and we've been drinking our cider and recounting old memories...the kid years. Somewhere between our second course we fell into this light conversation and banter; which has done a great deal to lighten our somber looking faces and cleansing our souls of all things negative. _Feels like the old days...his laughter, everything._

"Selfish or what?" he asks and I stick out my tongue, "Um...oh! So when I was 5, I'd just gotten my first ever comic and crush. Her name was Shirley. Well story goes from thinking to acting...I gave the girl my comic as some signal of my interest." my eyes soften up at the cuteness of young Punk, "Cooties and that bull were in and I honestly thought she'd just throw it back in my face, but to my surprise-she didn't. Instead, she hugged it out and gave me a peck on the cheek." he shakes his head thoughtfully, "After that year, she moved...didn't hear of her until years later when she passed away from Leukemia." my face fell a tad bit, "Alicia gave me this..." he pulls out his wallet and digs around and takes out a folded paper, "said Shirley saved it." handing it over to me, "Call me a cheese but...I treasure it, she was a nice girl-the first of many to want a piece of this." he jokes

Facepalming, "You're lucky that this is so cute. I am sorry about her, though."

Taking the treasure paper back into his wallet, "That's just the way life is, doll."

For a brief period, we just sit back listening to the big band play away making most of these skeletons rise and sweep away their dust all over the marble dancefloor.

"In the beginning of all of this mess that has surrounded me, I didn't ever think I'd be here with you...Much less leave the crib. I'm not going to lie, my bones still chill whenever I think of him, my eyes water sometimes just remembering what used to be-when Wes was around, bullet wounds and scars still pulse with pain, some days I just feel like giving up...but I don't know...today has revived me..." I speak up still watching those laughing, giggling skeletons, "Thank you."

A chair glides over next to mine, Phil sits by my side, "Letting me in now, are ya'?"

Smiling, a real genuine one, "You could say that." i turn to face him, "I'm not just saying that because I'm corny...or feel it necessary, Punk." i kiss his cheek and feel it quiver slightly beneath my lips and pull back to see the one and only Phillip Jack Brooks fighting his male ego. _Oh my...he-he's gonna cry._

Hiding his face away to hide his emotions, we sit next to each. Looking in different directions with my hand holding onto his as if the floor would eat us if I didn't. My own instincts bite at me and makes me pull him into an awkward yet intimate hug, "Let it out...let it out." I whisper and out comes the things, words, feelings he so much needed to set free-his burdens.

* * *

><p>In between a sea of dancing rich folks, we find ourselves having the time of our lives. Pretty much making ourselves look like idiots with no dance skills but whatever. Laughter and the like erupt from our mouths and onlookers either smile at us youngsters or look at us with disgrace.<p>

Spinning into Phil's arms and slowing down to slow dance, I grin up at him exasperatedly, "You got some moves on you, I see." I comment snaking my arms around his neck

"Man of many talents, little one." he replies smugly, nuzzling his nose into my hair

Giggling, "Took me forever to get that shit perfect...don't mess it up!"

"I don't care!"

Those tatted arms of his engulfs me, our bodies meshing-fitting together like puzzle pieces sending shockwaves through my body. We sway to the soft beat, enjoying the comfy silence between us. All around me couples young and aged chatter, kiss, whisper to their companions...some might just be whores and golddiggers.

Tilting up to have a good look at the man engulfing me, I ponder many things at a time. _We were good toge-we could be so good together...why do I even try to ignore it?_ Hands moving South of the Border bring me back in. Grinning with a sly glint in my eyes, I move up to kiss his neck. Goosebumps breakout on the skin where my lips ghost over, "How about we dip out of this joint?" I suggest through half-lidded eyes hoping he'll get the drift.

"As you wish." he replies and with that we disappear from the dancefloor.

* * *

><p>Being close to 2 in the a.m, I stick to Phil like glue to paper. My legs and everywhere else shiver because of the breeze even through the leather jacket. We've walked for what seems years but really just 15 mins. Prior to leaving, Punk gave the car keys to a smirking Bruce and now we're here walking along closed shops.<p>

"You planning to tell me where we're headed?"

Punk purses his lips and squints in deep thought and then quickly drags us to the front of a pizza place. We slip through a steel fence door and a side door. My fears heighten just being in a rundown hall. The ever mysterious Punk presses something into the wall and shazaam! A wild elevator door appears.

"Ladies first..." he says ushering me in.

"Please tell me that you're not part of a Satanist clan." I whisper scared out of my mind

He just chuckles and hugs me. The doors open revealing Heaven. Well, close to it...It's a loft looking home. Fit to cater to celebs or some shit. My lungs deflate, "Follow me." he says quietly amused by my reaction

Holding his hand we pass by a kitchen dressed down to looking like something out of a cooking show: the island, hanging pots, and set of dishwasher, trash-things-Chef's heaven. Through the kitchen and into what appears to be a living room with the most ginormous window I've ever seen. Magazines litter the coffee table that's set between leather couches. A plasma hangs of the wall filled with a mosaic of photos.

"C'mon, doll" and I try to hide my awe

Up some cool looking stairs we go, up on top a long hallway with doors on each side. We reach the 3rd to last, Punk swings it open and if I'm not dead yet...now I am.

"Are we breaking and entering?" I question dumbly

Punk chuckles, "Nope, this is where I plan on living once I have shit under my belt.  
><em>He must have something in his system. <em>The room consists of cream colored walls, tan carpeting, a stone fireplace with bookshelves, a bed that looks so very comfortable draped in turquoise sheets and shit. Punks leads me in and I want to cry, there's a crawl space-like space that lets one over look the rooftops and skyscrapers miles away.

"What you think?" whispers Phil, in that tone of his that reminds me why I wanted to leave Florence, as if he doesn't see my facial expression. Just blinking at him, he smirks, "Kinda chilly I'm turning on the fire."

"Who's house is this?" I ask slowly peeling myself out of my dress...revealing a set of silver cheetah print of panties

"It's a surprise...no wo-ow!" he grunts rubbing his back.

Concerned, I pad over and touch his shoulder, "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, "Just sore from the workout...this...mo-woah..." his train steams by at the sight of my half-nakedness

Pulling him up and undoing his buttons one by one, "Maybe I can help you with that..." I say slyly

"Maybe...or I can relieve all that stress." he suggests pressing his lips to mine. My brain starts to shut off as I back him over to the bed until he is splayed on it.

He tries to speak but I just straddle him, "Letmme take care of you, Punk." his breath comes long and ragged as I nibble on his lobe, "I want to..." I whisper breathily running my hands, fingertips gliding over his half-bare chest, "Relax, big boy..."

Dark olive greens challenge but give into my icy greys...


	59. Chapter 59

_Trying to make writing a habit again because life sucks lol. The feedback gave me fuzzies! _

_I forgot to mention but last chapter was inspired by The Perishers's, "Nothing Like You and I"_

_I think the story is gonna start picking up the pace a bit…short chapter with eye openers, at least I'd like to think._

_ Sit back, relax, read, and review!_

The beginnings of the rising sun illuminate Punk's toned tummy as I gingerly run the tips of my fingers down it and carefully avoiding his bruises from training. Slowly but steadily, his heart thumps into my ear comforting me. His warmth engulfs me like the fireplace that has long extinguished and the throw that covers our naked bodies. His hands play with my tangled hair. Last night had taken a toll on us both but it as well worth it. We've yet to get shut-eye and just lay in silence.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you planned to ravish me from the start." he pops up with a low, gravelly chuckle

Laughing into his stomach, I lift up to see his face, "You saying that I conspired? Maybe it was your reward for such a wonderful date-I don't usually let people in on the cookies...on the first date."

"Meh, I'm going with the conspiracy." he says with a smirk, "But you might've just let loose my sweet-tooth." with that he flips me over whooshing the air from my lungs from the suddenness and giggles.

"Thought you said your back wasn't faring well, liar." I accuse him playfully, "Making me do all the work and shit..."

Lowering to kiss me gently, "I wasn't lying. I guess you just fixed me." he says between kissed that slowly travel down the nape of my neck. Soon as I start to show just how excited I am, he stops and just stares down at my glassy eyes with a look of apprehension, "I've got to tell you something..."

With my hormones killing me, I lean up to kiss him, "It can wait." I state sultrily

Shaking his head, "No, it can't. It's important." the seriousness in his tone and face say so too

"If this has anything to do with _Maria_, I'm walking." I tell him with no intent on holding back if it is.

"No, no...something else." he clears his throat, "So the head honcho, Vinny, called me up yesterday while I was with the guys-before our date, of course but still whi-"

_Oh my...Vince. He-they..Of course they know each other. Phil's in his-yeah. FUCK. _Getting antsy by his rambling, "Go ahead, I get it."

"Well, he called and basically said that he's seen me to my thing and wants me to appear at Mania for Cena's entrance...and then have a word or two with me."

Something dropped inside of me. Phil loves his sport: he lives it, breathes it, gave things up for it-it's his dream. A dream that he already has a door half open for. The things is, he'd have to leave things behind: his family being the biggest...and then me. _Selfish, selfish...you're not his girlfriend-friends with benefits, maybe..._, "That's fantastic, Phil!" however much I tried to sound enthusiastic...it didn't sound like it at all.

Casting a dull smile, "That fake smile isn't convincing anyone, beautiful." rolling off of me, he swings his strong, long, toned legs off the side of the bed.

Kicking myself for sinking his boat, I pull the throw over my shoulders and go behind him, "I'm sorry, it's just...it's gonna be difficult to let you fly off-he's gonna sign you for sure and you'll travel all over_..._and I'll still be _here_." letting go of my pride I admit the one of handful things I've been lying to myself, "You kinda dragged me into your jerky, asshole-y charm, again."

Finding my eyes, "Took me long enough." the corners of his lips inch up

Raising a brow, "Was that set up?"

He turns around to look out the window, "Nope."

My shoulders droop, "I'm not going to stand in your way. Vince'd be an idiot not to sign you-I mean; you're pretty damn good at what you do from what I can recall. So, don't dwell on my emotions...do what you gotta do. I may not be happy that you'll be off, but I'm fucking happy that you got what you wanted all along." I hug the man and plant kisses on his shoulder blades.

His rough fingers glide along my arms trying to soothe my uneasiness, "Is that a long way of saying that you'll miss me and you're scared I'll forget you?" when I don't say word, "Nothing's signed and sealed, yet. This chase has been the most difficult and rewarding; fuck all those crazy ideas in your head. Fuck what I let you in on, let's just enjoy the now. Enjoy it after some sleep 'cus I need time to recharge...c'mon." scooting back onto the bed, he motions me to bring it in.

"I'm really, honestly happy for you, Punk." I repeat trying to get that point across. _I am, aren't I?_ Crawling over to his side, I place a tender, sole kiss on his lips, "Somehow, I always knew you'd get up there-not when or how-but I knew."

Fixating his eyes on my face, every detail he observes. Thumbs swipe my bottom lip gently as if they need to be re-glued, "Took Vinny Mac long enough, I do say. I know myself to be the best, cross my heart hope to die. But, thank you. Don't fret just yet, young one. Sleep on it.", with that he pulls me down and kisses my forehead.

For now, we're good...marvelous, even. That's the right now; what about the right after? Happiness comes in moments, rarely ever lasts. When that moment ends, THIS moment, we'll be right back to all the bullshit. _Noah's letter that will probably bring Alfredo back into the picture, the scrubbing of skin, deciding whether or not calling up the shrink because of the reasons attached to said skin, getting Micks back on her feet, preparing for the kid's futures-everything. _

Closing my eyes shut, tightly, as if doing so will make all thoughts and preoccupations slip away, I force myself into relaxing to the sound of Punk's heartbeat.

* * *

><p>Sleep Queen didn't claim my body and mind her for long, probably deemed me not worthy or something. A crack of sunlight welcomes my aching eyes. Fluttering them open, I lift up of the arm that I used as a pillow and as efficiently as I can slide off the bed. <em>Goddamn why's it so co-Oh...<em> Rubbing my arms for some kind of warmth, I bend down to pick up Phil's discarded shirt and pull it on as well as my long forgotten clutch. _Underwear...underwear...underwear...underwear..._Opening one of the drawers, I find a pair of the sleeping man's briefs and slip 'em on. Lastly, I take the throw and make my way up the stairs that lead up the crawl space.

Upon getting up there, I notice that it leads to the rooftop. Giving Phil another check, I open it and squeeze through. The morning air swirls by leaving my hair fly off in all directions. Like the rest of the house, the rooftop is breathtakingly beautiful. White stone, limestone perhaps, all over. On one side, a set of outside couches surround a fireplace thing. One corner there is a minibar equipped and ready to be used with an expensive looking grill. Another side, a Jacuzzi. _This is too good, too good! _

Taking my mini-pack of cigarettes out of my clutch, I search and find my lighter. A couple of steps and I lean over the ledge overlooking the cars that pass by every so often and people...feels like I'm T.J. Eckleburg or God even looking down upon the little people.

My mind drifts back to the night before and I close my eyes feeling Phil's rough yet sensuous hand glide over my stomach, down to my hips, pulling my panties down as I kiss him with purpose, with need, with want. The flashback sends goosebumps all over my body. Flashbacks continue and I begin wonder what or how it'll feel when those hands disappear for periods among periods of time. It's rather safe to say that he's gonna be rolling with the big boys soon, that'll bring in big everything: money, power, media..._women_.

Money rules everything around us. Money is life. Money _does_ buy happiness-it buys everything. Money is power. Power gets shit done. Power gets respect as well as takes it away. Power and money change people-makes them forget who they are. Power and money attract media. Media has the power to take anything done or said and create lies as well as expose things that can very ruin a person. Everything put together attracts women. Gorgeous, head full of teased extensions, caked on makeup, sluttily clothed, plastic molded, groupies and golddiggers-homewreckers.

Inhaling, I pray that this nicotine will enter my body so I can just relax. I'm thinking too far ahead for what we are. What we are has no label. No label but we know we want one...I want one. _I want one...I want more and he'll give it because he's going to expect the same..._

Running a hand down my face, I mentally berate myself for this. I kept telling myself that I'd stay far from his affection 'cus I'd only hurt him. I've _been _hurting him...and when he finds out about Noah, he'll only hurt _more_. _Fuck. _The poor man cried his heart out yesterday. Releasing things I believed didn't linger on his mind...and me, I'm adding to the list.

Then there's Noah that gives my heart a stabbing heartache. Everything he has done. Everything he has made of me. Everything he has taken. And now he asks for one more thing? And I fight myself for wanting to go through with his request if not to see the face of a demon but find some closure or something that will let me walk off and never look back.

Chucking the cigarette over the edge, I let out a blood curdling shriek and pull out some strands of hair from my head. _All this thinking..._

Re-entering Punk's room, I close the window and climb down the stairs. On the bed Punk lays in a relaxed position, "Hello beau-ti-ful. I like the way that shirt looks on you...suits ya." he comments coyly

Shimmying seductively, "Smelled like you and I guess..." I shrug my shoulders, "How was your slumber, handsome?" I ask getting nearer and near as he sits up with those eyes half-lidded.

"Left me feeling like a new man, aches here and there but I'll live." he licks his lip, "How about you? You're up before 12, I'm shocked."

Swinging a leg over his hip, I straddle him hips, "Sleep and I didn't get along too well." kissing him, he pulls away and caresses my cheek. I rotate my head and take his finger into my mouth without taking my eyes off of his. Slowly I let it slip from my mouth. My lips move on to attack his moist lips and begin to grind my hips so he'll get the drift if isn't obvious enough.

He smirks and runs his from my down my hips giving my butt a squeeze and a slap making me squeak. He captures my lips in a rough kiss. Sliding my tongue along his bottom lip, entry is lifted and I attack his tongue. His hands roam under my borrowed shirt, exploring like they've never done so before. My body tingles with anticipation as he works away at taking said shirt off.

Pulling away from his mouth, I utter, "Fuck me like you hate me."

* * *

><p>"So it was <em>that<em> intense, huh?" questions Punk insinuating the bitemark he now displays

Laughing into the mattress, "I guess so."

"Must've 'cus you had this feral look in those eyes...scared me and turned me on at the same time."

Phil runs his far-from-dainty hands down my spine, giving me shivers. Another time he grazes the scarred part of my skin where both bullets and knife punctured it. His touch makes me wince, not from pain but disgrace-embarrassment.

"Did I hurt you?" I shake my head, "This doesn't make you any less than the beautiful person you are, sweetcheeks." he kisses each and I feel the need to cry, "These show just how strong you are...almost like you're invincible." I prop myself on my elbows and look back at him, "You don't know how fucking terrified I was when I saw...Felt like you were so close and yet gone. I'd never cried for any girl aside from my mom." he admits and the pain is just about enough to bring me to tears

Sitting up, I hug the man, "I _do _know. That time at the cabaret." holding on tighter, "But we're here. A little on the deep end but here, nonetheless."

Clearing my throat, I untangle myself from him and stand up to stretch out my limbs. It's still pretty early but I'm feeling energized, for once.

"Phil do you kno-OHGOD!"

I 180 and find myself giving a half naked woman a full frontal. Trying to salvage what's too late to be salvage, I snatch up Phil's shirt, "WHY THE FUCK IS THERE A HALF NAKED BITCH IN HERE!?"

Like a deer caught in headlights, Phil splutters without saying anything coherent,

"_ME_? I LIVE HERE!" flails the woman, "THIS IS MY HOUSE-_WHO THE HELL ARE YOU_!? PHILLIP WHO THE FUCK IS THIS _SLUT_?"

Mean mugging both this mystery slut and Phil, "_SLUT?_ BITCH, I'LL SHOW YOU 'SLUT'"

Coming at this crazed ho, Phil rapidly stands up to hold me back...letting _everything_ show. The girl stares wide eyed and turns around. My mouth drops and I push the indie wrestler off, "You _did_ have a hussy on the side all along!" I state rather than ask

"What? No-NO. Mar, that's Darcy!" he tries to say in his defense

My eyes widen, "And she's your best guy's ex-girl? How fucking sleazy a dick are you?", I go in as to slap him

"WAIT!" shouts Darcy, "I'm coming in like this because I needed to ask him where he put the soap and razors I asked him to buy!" she explains exasperatedly

"Downstairs bathroom, now move it or you're gonna lose it!" replies Phil urgently

She hurries out the room muttering a straight line of obscenities, leaving a whole lot of tension, "You've got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Punk." I spit


	60. Chapter 60

_ Been working on this for the past 2 days…it's hard to say if I like it, haha. Ah, I know I ruined the fun last chapter BUT it's Marleene, emotionally unstable Marleene. Lol. This chap, her emotions are all over but it's…just read! _

_By the way, all these followers and shit—I love you guys, all of you. Brightening up my dark days, thank you._

Fumbling around with my ruched dress trying to get my head through, I find myself in a funk. Finally getting succeeding in putting on the dress, I scavenge around for my long lost heels without any luck. Punk insists on blocking me off like we're in the MBA or something which doesn't do any good to my flared up temper.

"Punk! Quit that shit and let me get on my way!" I shout not even bothering to look up at him. _I can't even look at him..._

"Not until you calm the fuck down and listen." he shouts right back not budging the least bit.

Biting my cheek, "Calm down? Calm down?!" closing my eyes, "Okay..." he opens his trap again and I cut him off, "I AM CALM. I am but I'm not listening to your bullshit." another peep from him and I damn near crucify him, "You think I don't know this game? Have you been brainwashed of the last couple of months? Baby, I _was_ played, I've _been _played, I've _played_..." I laugh humorlessly, "So, you honestly want me to believe that load of yours? That the half-naked pornstar-lookin' bitch is the same female Einstein, Star Wars worshipping, geek that Colt rambled to me about?" silence, "The man is attractive in his own right, but_ that_?" Phil keeps his silence and I narrow my eyes, "I thought so."

Shaky handed, I return to looking for my shoes. Before I can even get near the ground Phil pops up with, "You could've just said that you're jealous instead of doing one of your fucking drama scenes."

My mouth drops breaking through the floor. _Man has some nerve... _Standing up tall with emblazoned eyes, "You really trying to poke at the fire, huh?"

Sizing up a 200-something pound, 6ft tall man is pretty ridiculous being my size but that's just how it is, "Poke? More like stabbing, honey." he bites his lip, "After all of the shit-I've tackled a lot of shit...I still got a football stadium full of problems-You!" he shouts, "You really think I've got time to woo both a main course _and_ side salad?"

Avoiding his protruding veins, heavy breathing, and furrowed brows, I hit him with a verbal lowblow, "It worked. When Maria was around and I was the side salad."

His eyes widen with incredibility, as if I'd shot him in the balls. _Talking about balls...he has no pants..._ That windpipe of his starts back up and I have no intention hearing any more of it. _Fuck that! FUCK THAT! _I've heard it all before, _all_.

Every flap of his tongue dissolves my self-restraint. My inner Lavagirl threatens to break free by giving me a feeling of clamminess, "Move." I command stopping the rant of this outspoken man. Nothing happens. Growling, I push past him.

Shuffling past him as he momentarily loses his balance, I try to get away. That's until l he grips onto me by the wrist. Before I know, I'm spun back into the chest that I caressed and kissed not long ago.

Too winded to rebel, I stay under Punks tightening grip, "Now. Let me get a fucking syllable in!" he barks at me...all up in my face about it not even forgetting to add the shake at every syllable.

Instinctively, I cringe and step down. My body tenses up so badly, my knees buckle and I'm at Punk's mercy. Just like that, my brain sends me a flashback full of Noah. Punk's anger only adds on to my escalating fear, "Please, don't hurt me." I whimper through super glued shut eyes. Noah's voice starts to replay through my head.

"Wha-what?"

Noah's cackle shakes up my body, "I'll listen...just, please-you're hurting me!" I shriek. Not a second later, hands are off my wrists. I cradle them close to my trembling body hoping that bruises won't form. _Calm down, he's locked up..._

"Marleene...Marleene?"

"Yeah?" I squeak sounding and looking like a dog with her tail between her legs.

Arms ghost over my body and I move back, "You know I'd never hurt you. I'm sorry, I-I was mad. Marleene?"

"Ye-yeah." I wince at the sound of my stutter.

"It's _him_, isn't it?" his voice sounding so accusing. Phil lets out a breath, "Come here." he touches my arm and I flinch.

"I'm sorry." my eyes open to take a peek at the indie wrestler and I forget my initial anger, "Are there any drinks in this...whatever _this_ is?"

Punk's demeanor changes, "Darcy has a stash in her room."

* * *

><p>Observing the new environment around me, I feel like I've warped and popped up from Mario's pipe and into a new world. Framed, original, movie posters: Star Wars, Batman, The Godfather, Alien, Modern Times all adorn the brick back wall where the out-of-radar bed is set. Under it is a collection of books, records, trophies, and videogames. Every wall is painted with a dark green and on one side is a very intimidating desk full with papers and a collage under a glass layer-almost Clue-like. On another wall are the girl's drawers with authentic action figures and a life-size R2D2 and Luke Skywalker.<p>

"Her closet is in the sky." says Phil making my mouth close.

Raising a brow, "Is that key for something?"

He points up to the ceiling as he moves a rug that blankets the middle of the room; I look up to see a space mural with a space ship, I believe it's Darthvader's, and see a glass attic door. _The things money can buy..._ A creak catches my attention and I turn to see Phil reaching into a hole in the floor. _Trap door? _He comes up with a bottle of wine and dusts himself off.

"Dunno what it is but it's aged, white, and will fit your needs." he says blowing the dust off the bottle.

"Is this really the Darcy that broke Scott's cheery heart?"

"Well, those trophies and shit do say 'Darcy Drake' and the collage do have pictures of them...together."

Punk passes by me handing me the uncorked bottle and I feel like shit. He's disappointed in me and it shows, "You're making me feel like shit."

Leaning against the open doorframe, he just stares at me for a good while, "That little skit ruined our morning...probably everything I've worked at. I...where's the trust?"

Wiping the cold sweat off my forehead, "She's a fucking babe! One that barged in half-naked and...what'd you want me to think?"

"I didn't want you to think so far ahead!" he shouts, "Trust. That's what I want. Trust." he runs a hand down his face, he's so agitated, "I swear, you're making a fucking dramatic bitch outta me."

_Feelings equal wounded..._ Though I realize his point and his agitation, it hurts that I'm wrecking things, "I told you what you're dealing with." I reply in not so much a whisper.

"Is there hope?"

"Hope is all we got at the end of the day, handsome." I answer which isn't much of one but whatever. My body sways for a second and the aged bottle of wine almost falls from my grasp, "How about you batch up some breakfast?"

Punk stares at me curiously, "Are you okay?" I nod my head, "Come on then, Darcy won't like it if she finds us snooping."

Walking past him, "And I'm pretty sure she won't like to see you dick right before breakfast...that is if she's used to it." I add trying to keep a straight face.

"Ha. Ha. You're gonna drive me to insanity one of these days." he replies with a mini smile.

* * *

><p>The aroma of French toast floats all throughout the kitchen giving my stomach a sense of queasiness. Phil is busy at work playing chef and I rest atop a polished counter sipping away at the wine which is to die for and texting Bree with vague details of last night, keeping Randy up at one of the roster meetings, giving Colt a textful, and keeping up with Micks who's in Piper's care.<p>

"So her father does what?" I ask Phil.

"He owns a couple of Drake's, hence the last name. This is one of his lofts-birthday present for his baby." he replies.

Nodding in understanding, "That sweet. All I ever got was a 'Happy Birthday, hope you last longer.' from the old man."

"Better than nothing." Phil comes around with a plate of French toast and plants a kiss on my lips, "Oops...forgot we're still mad."

Biting back a smile, "Unless you got any more surprises of that kind...you're forgiven."

Taking a bite off my plate, "Bruce lives with us...he borrowed the car."

_That's whassup..._, "I could interrogate him and he'd say that you're innocent?" Phil nods, "Wow...now I really do feel like shit." I laugh.

"its fine-what's done is done."

Nodding once more, I sip from the bottle next to me and push the plate away. Phil raises a brow, "Appetite isn't there." he shoots me another look, "The drink...it's filling."

That's the truth. My clamminess, cold sweat, feeling that I'll faint any moment-everything, is gone. Maybe it's because I haven't had a drink in a couple of days or something. Whatever it is...it's gone.

"So...what's her mom?" I ask to distract Phil.

"She's a-"

"My mother is Chief of Surgery in some hospital in Philly." comes a voice and I quickly slip off the counter and dust myself off, "That bottle was her grandpop's...I don't think she'll mind BUT I do." in comes the controversial Darcy of the Drake family in sweats and hoodie still looking every bit a sex symbol. Her facial expression says that she's still bothered by me,

"Anything else you wanna know?" she inquires snappily.

"Yeah, where is the hospitality?" blurts Phil eyeing her as if he's mentally berating her.

She smiles cheekily, "They disappeared when I walked into her boobs."

Blushing deep red, I hide my face, "They call it knocking."

"They call it, telling me the day or at least hours before." she challenges.

Phil rolls his eyes and puts an arm around her shoulders, "I kinda forgot. You_ did_ say you had that lecture thing down at UIC."

"Still." she slips from under his arm and grabs my plate of food, "Gimme a couple hours of sleep and I'll be more pleasant to talk to. Goodnight." on that note, she slithers away and up the stairs.

After the doors clicks, "She's..._intense_..."

"Right up your alley, dollface." comments Phil with his signature smirk, "I foresee you guys being friends." _Yeah...right..._

* * *

><p>Stepping off the bus, my brand new sneaker almost slips off. Apparently, Phil had "forgotten" about the gifts he got for me. Walking to the sidewalk, I crouch and tie my shoe-to my amazement the Guess jeans he also got me don't show any crack.<p>

Topping it off, he forced me into one of his sweaters with no shirt underneath. It's all good; it's somewhat chilly out here in the Lincoln Park Zoo.

"Any more gifts and you'll give the impression that you're hiding something." I comment suspiciously.

Punk whistles and walks away making me jog after him. He laughs and puts an arm around me, "I might've forgotten to mention that Vinny gave me a bonus..."

_He's on his way to the big league..._Giving him a squeeze, "Use it on yourself then...you deserve it."

"I used it to pay for 2 months worth of rent, all's good."

"I'm assuming Micks's house rent?" he nods, "What about Darcy's?"

Entering the zoo, we begin our tour without a real beginning, "Her pops owns it...it's all covered."

Our feet land us in with the polar bears. One in particular tickles my funny bone as it lays on its back sleeping while two cubs step all over in a funny manner. The next animals are the lions. Like on tv the male lazes about while the lionesses gather about and socialize with each other.

"Looks like Simba's comfy...he resembles me...a king." comments Phil proudly.

I snicker, "Sure, Punk...of course."

Squeezing me, "You can be my Nala." he mumbles against my hair, "You're just a fierce."

Walking us over to the monkey enclosure, "I would but...hey, it's your brother!" I squeal pointing to a chimp with his butt all over the window, "Just like you!" I chuckle as he frowns at me.

"If that's me, then that one is you." he points to a chimp hanging from a tree...taking a shit."

Gasping, "Fuck no! I'm the lioness."

Beside me a child gasps and says, "Momma, she said a swear!" and his mother huffs and drags her kid away while Punk and me laugh.

Grabbing Punk's hand, "Look what you do? Bad, bad influence."

"Maybe I need some punishment for being so bad." he suggests wagging his brows.

Smacking him, "C'mon we have a lot of ground to cover, _chango_."

After roaming exhibit after exhibit, we arrive at this dark one with all types of tiny mammals. I'm eye to eye with the mole rats, _naked _mole rats. Feels like I'm invading their privacy, with them being naked and all. _Man are they uh-gah-lee! _Getting back to my feet, I search around for Phil and find him observing the bats.

"Communicating with your long lost relatives, Phil?" I question him, standing beside him.

"Using my telepathic powers to ask 'em about Auntie and Uncle." he jokes, "What about you? Who were you visiting?"

"Mole rats, the naked ones."

"Dirty."

"I think the only one I'll ever like is Rufus-bitch can at least look cute in a sombrero and is useful making nachos and shit." I joke back referencing Kim Possible.

Phil turns to raise an eyebrow at me, "And that is…?"

"The PG female version of James Bond." another questioning look, "Kids tv, old one."

He pats my head, "Figures, you could pass for a kid any time."

Gasping, "Says the one who has a whole collection of comics and can't go without his stuffed Kryptonite!" I voice loud enough to garner attention.

"And I'm proud. Leave Krypty out of this!"

Laughing we make our way of the exhibit and walk past kids and their grandparents, teens who should be in class, and vendors. The sun shines warming up my body under the oversized sweater. Taking a chance, I pull down the zipper just enough to reveal what little cleavage I got and roll up the sleeves.

Phil notices, "Trynna attract someone with the goodies?" he asks with a giant smirk.

Elbowing him, "It's getting a bit hot under this tent."

"I guess I have that effect, sorry."

Chuckling, "If you say so..."

Pouting playfully, "You know, if really does kill my self esteem when you say such things."

"Honey, you have enough for the both of us." his turn to gasp, "Yeah, yeah Miss America...let's get something to drink 'cus I am thirsty."

* * *

><p>Sky's the limit; shoot for the moon...something I'll never do, in the literal sense. Being on this God forsakenly cramped elevator that travels to the top of the Sears Tower gives me the feeling that I'm never gonna see another patch of grass...<em>ever<em>. Maybe I never mentioned my fear of heights but now I am. I've never been on an airplane in my entire life-much less after what happened 5yrs ago in New York. I've never been to Six Flags, so no rollercoasters. The highest I've been above ground is like 10ft. Clear memories of being chickenshit scared about jumping off the bus during drills are definitely proof.

"You sure you ain't gonna spill your cookies, doll?" asks Phil with a hint of playfulness in his tone. I only grip his yellowed hand tighter, "Okay, okay-facing fears, Marleene. You're a big girl now."

Mean-mugging the man, "You call being 500billion light-years away from pavement 'facing my fears'? I call this insanity!" I shriek, "This shit could collapse or this bitch can stop and then we'll be stuck suffocating to our untim-" Phil covers my mouth.

"No worries people, she's just scared." says Phil trying to keep everybody else relaxed, "Nothing is going to happen. C'mon, I'm here with you."

A ding lets us know that we've arrived to the final floor and my nerves are eating me alive. I refuse to even budge. Phil pushes me out and I latch onto him like a facehugger to Kane. We stand outside the elevator as everybody else empties it, all seeming too excited for their own good. We stand there, feeling the barely noticeable sway of the tower. _Sooner you get on that glass, sooner you're off..._

"You test it out and I'll go if coast if clear." I suggest.

"You rather I die first?" says Phil in mock incredibility.

Shooting him a death glare he puts his hands up and proceeds to walk over and onto the glass walkway that lets one see just how far from the ground they really are. Punk motions for me to go over but then starts swaying and has this face of terror and I freak out only to find him horsing around with me.

"It's stable, find out for yourself."

Flipping him off, I cautiously approach the walkway, "Are you sure?" I ask for conformation.

Faster than the speed of light, I end of being pulled onto the glass. I nearly let out a yelp if not for Phil's hand over my mouth, "What do you think, stable or not?"

Shaky-legged, I will myself not to cry because I'm scared beyond belief. Phil notices and only keeps on holding me until I'm ready to be let go. Few minutes pass us by, slowly, and I wiggle out of his grasp and stand on my own two feet. Babystepping, I observe the glass beneath me, people and cars all seem like tiny ants. I feel like Godzilla or something.

A camera shutter catches my attention and it's Phil taking a picture with his digital cam that already has pictures of us-embarrassing ones. He hands a random civilian the camera and goes over to me and hugs me and I smile. Another picture and I kiss his cheek. The woman hands us the camera and we thank her, "This is actually pretty cool." I mention.

"You still scared, scarycat?" mocks the black-haired man.

"Oh, now you're making fun of me? Okay, okay..." I smirk, "At least I'm not scared of some itty bitty rats."

Walking back to the elevator, "I've had bad experiences with those demon animals." he mumbles.

* * *

><p>Stretching out the limbs after sitting through two movies, I breathe in the polluted city air and wait for Phil to finish tying his shoe. It'll never really wear off, this feeling of awe, over how strangely beautiful the city looks with its' diverse sea of people. At almost each corner is a side show of it's own or a vendor. Everyone, it seems, walks around in their own skin without a fuck in the world. We've come across a couple of homeless people and I gave a dollar-yeah, I'm sympathetic that way.<p>

We start our walk to Millennium Park as the sun starts to set painting the sky a beautiful array of orange. Bookstores, coffee shops, restaurants, clothing boutiques all call out to me but I refrain from being any more materialistic. Every so often we stop though to check out scenes and shit. On one of our stops, I catch Phil's eye going back to this authentic Cubs cap. Baseball, basketball, football-all the same, I don't give a flying fuck about but Phil...he has an unhealthy love for baseball and the Cubs. _The same Cubs who haven't won the series in 100yrs or something..._ Picking up the cap, I observe it for a minute as Phil goes deeper into the sports memorabilia boutique. When he's as far as I can get him, I go up to the register and pay a whopping 60 bucks for the bitch. _Better be authentic..._

"Everything here seems legit...just wish it wasn't pocket-emptying expen-what you got there?" asks Phil with his brows furrowed together.

Hurrying outside, I toss him the bag and his eyes widen, "Saw you gawking at it..." Sneaking out the camera, I snap a picture of his reaction.

Holding the cap in awe, "Ho-how much? This is ridiculously priced, c'mon return it..."

"Nope." I grin, "It is a gift, treasure it."

He chuckles taken aback, "The guy is the one who's supposed to spoil the girl...not vice versa, beautiful."

"It's a good thing that what we have going on is anything but normal. So stop that shit and enjoy-you deserve something nice for your troubles."

Strong arms embrace me, "I got you...and you're beyond being something 'nice'."

Picking up the pace, we make it to the park and enjoy a hotdog and chill for a while. All this walking is no good for unbroken-in shoes. Not to mention, I haven't walked this much in like..._since highschool probably._

* * *

><p>Focusing all my energy and attention on the bottles, I aim and shoot the ball in hand in hope of showing Punk up. Of course since I have sucky coordination, I miss. The attendee strikes me and I curse the fuck out that damn fucking ball. Punk pats me on the shoulder with a grand ol' smirk and hands the other dude a 5. He aims and shoots and to my utter embarrassment, he hits the bottles.<p>

"Now, which one do you want milady, Grumpy Carebear or...?" he asks still wearing his victory smirk.

"I'll take the stuffed monkey; it helps with the soreness of being a loser." I reply in mock sadness.

"If it helps, Miss, the monkey kind of looks like your boyfriend."

With that we leave, me laughing towing a brooding Phil, "Told you." I sing out.

"Oh shut up."

Before this we were at the mini golf course but instead of whacking the tees, we were whacking each other. Phil's reenactment of King Kong destroying and hanging from a building in Times Square is what got us kicked out. Afterwards, I tested out the wave swinger and actually enjoyed it as much as the next person.

Navy Pier at night is really the 9th Wonder of the World, 8th being Chyna. Something about the atmosphere, placement over the water, and carnival lights on the 150ft tall Ferris wheel. Perhaps the carousel adds to the cutesy, couple-y feel...or the cruisers. Overall, it has been one splendid day; should it end now...it won't make it any less.

Punk drags me to the ferris wheel. All aboard the gondola, we're off the ground for 7mins in heaven or hell, whichever. Nearing the top, the view of the city and reflecting lake is so astoudingly beautiful. Photogenicly perfect photo that I take.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how awesome was today?"

"Mm..." I tap my chin, "100." I lean into him and kiss his thin lips, "I'm sorry about my drama this morning. Really. I'm just paranoid, I guess."

He pulls away, "You guess?" I hide in the crook of his neck, "It's okay, I went out of line...I scared you. I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. I've decided to pay Betty a visit..." I mumble agaisnt his neck. _Lie. You're going to visit the bastard...Noah..._

Smoothing my hair, "You think she'd be of any help to Micks?"

Looking up at him, "Why now?"

"Ace is coming home in a matter of days..."

My eye widen, "What about the-"

"He knows." I open my mouth, "He knows everything. Marleene, he knows. He's okay with everything or at least that's what he wrote."

Holding on to Phil tighter, "This is going to be a difficult ride for them...isn't it?"

"That's why I was kinda hoping you'd move in...with me...and Darcy and Bruce..."

My heart thumps, "Wait, what?"

"Yeah, I mean we've been sharing the same bed for who knows how long. The kids will be in Rosa's care, she loves the sound of the rascals, Micks and Ace have their shit to handle, and I know how much it pains you to keep waking up in a place where you have so many memories...of Wesley. Plus, I'm due to go back to Kentucky in May and Colt will come back around the same time...he'll have a surprise."

As Phil rambles on, all I can feel is my heart thumping..._I hope it isn't making the gondola vibrate_, and this feeling in the pit of my stomach of uncertainty, and a voice inside my head encouraging me to go forth and take the offer. Start off new...with _him_..._with Phil_. On the other side, my liver aches telling me that I need liquor, something he despises, and my brain tells me it's too early for a decision to big.

"Marleene?"

Shaking my head to clear my thoughts, "Huh?"

"What do you sa-"

"You kiddos enjoy your ride?" asks the worker and I smile and Phil answers.

Getting off and following the exit path, I try my best not to show my inner-conflict... it's a war in my head-one side says 'yes' the other 'no'. I'm so happy right now but things can change drastically if I base my decision off of right now's happiness.

Punk skids alongside of me and we walk in silence.

* * *

><p>Walking alongside the shore, I let the freezing water graze my feet as Punk hold my hand looking up at the stars occasionally giving me a glimpse.<p>

After some time, his anticipation overpowers him and he pops the question, "So, what do you say? Move in...with me?"

I look up from the lake and into the shiny dark green eyes of the man who, for so long has put up with my bullshit...a man who loves me as much as to take a blade in the shoulder for me...one who has cried for me... He's everything and much more. Tears brim around my eyes 'cus, honestly, I don't want to make a mistake-_I'm all glue and tape_. Why he want me out of all the other women...I can't fathom but we make each other laugh and have the capacity to be great together as well as the strength to bring each other crashing to the ground and fill each other with hate...

"Punk, I..."

_Dun, dun, duuuun! _


	61. Chapter 61

**A/N: **Hey,_ I know I've kinda bailed but…damn it's getting tough to push through! Feels like I'm not giving enough heart anymore, ugh. I find myself stuck, my muse has gone. So, yeah…I'm planning to kick it up a notch and move at a faster pace—hang in there with me. _

_Show me some love! Love ya'll, read and excuse me if it's not my best, grr!_

Eyes of different a mixture of gold and green stare at me, through me—I'm probably just another wall to them. I'm use to it; it's been a while since they've shown any sign of life. This person is just a dusty reflection—is just existing on this earth rather than living on it. She is and was McKenzie Brooks-Welsh…and with some work, she'll be her again. _Hopefully._

Slowly pouring water atop her head, I watch the way she sinks into it. Those glassy eyes of hers close and she almost looks at peace, _almost_. I open my mouth as if I'm really gonna spill the contents of my mind this time, but she cuts me to the chase, "Tell me." this isn't the first time she's spoken but it still gives me a twinge of shock, "I'm observant." she looks up at me, "Tell me."

Finding myself struggling with myself, I sigh, "You have to snap out of this, babe. You got kids that miss you, I miss you, Phil does too—Ace. Ace is coming home, okay? You gotta pull yourself together." taking her cold hands in mine, "McKenzie?"

"He's coming…home." she mumbles. A ghostly smile creeps onto her tired face and her hands begin to tremble in mine, "He's coming home." she repeats over and over…almost as if she's chanting it.

Feeling a bit put off by her behavior, I gently brush some hair from her face, "Yeah, he is. So, stay with me. You gotta keep on, sweetheart. He can't come home to see you like this."

Micks shakes her head, "No, no he can't." she giggles, "Because he's coming home and Wes…Wesley he's—", she giggles and stops abruptly as if she's just smacked in the face. She stills, "He's not coming home." she says monotonously. Her eyes find mine, "He's never coming home." now not only are her hands trembling but also her entire frame. One tear and then a stream fall from her now darkened eyes.

I feel dumbfounded at this. It feels as though I'm losing her as fast as I brought her back. She'll stop crying and go back into her abyss…go back to existing.

"Micks, he's gone. It hurts like a whore, believe me but you have to keep going. You've got so much to live for, sweetie." this does nothing to calm the naked woman inside the tub, "Wesley told me to tell you that it's okay to keep on…that he loves you.", I blurt out.

With a look of realization, Micks looks up at me, "I-I loved him…I loved him for so long.", she sobs.

"But he knew you loved Ace more and he was okay with that. He loves you and the baby." I'm shot a questioning glare, "I know—it's okay."

"She's his baby! I loved him so much, so much but how could I do that—how? I-I played with him and Ace. I-I I'm so guilty! I love Wesley but I knew I'd leave him for Ace. Wes died running after my son. Wes died for me and I-I couldn't even love him enough to leave Ace…", she cries.

Stepping into the tub, I lower myself into the lukewarm water, in jeans and all, and hold Micks tight like Punk did when I sank in my own guilt because, sometimes, we're not lucky, we don't die—we just keep living and there's nothing left to do than give up or keep moving with that regret, with that pain.

Immediately, the frail body melts into me and sobs that have long waited to be released from their prison are set free. My arms tighten around this body of hers and let her pour everything into my shirt. Crying doesn't get a person anywhere, but sometimes we have nothing else than to believe it will because words and actions fail us.

* * *

><p>*flashback*<p>

As the wind swirls by taking my hair with it, I find myself not giving a fuck. It doesn't kill my view of the Chicago skyline from my spot on the ledge of Darcy's rooftop. _Batman must feel like a boss when he does this…_The warmth of the cig in my hand tells me it's time to toss it and I do. Mindlessly, I dig into my pack for another and light it.

"Put that shit out, ashtray, you're gonna ruin these grade-A tacos." voices the one and only, CM Punk.

Twisting, "You know, I could've easily fallen over the edge and met my horrifying end, smart one."

He sticks out his tongue at me, "And I would've swooped in to save you, part of the job."

"Oh, almost forgot, wrestling is just a hobby. Saving damsels in distress is your official job." I reply playfully.

Punk swings a leg over and straddles the ledge, "You act as though you're unimpressed! Chicks dig it!"

I laugh and kiss him chastely, "Chicks dig it, huh? Well, I guess I just dig you…Superhero or not, Phillip." I whisper against his lips and continue to kiss him.

Halfway through, I feel him smiling, "You taste like an ashtray, doll."

Chuckling, "You ruin all moments!"

Time laps us by; we've been sitting for a minute in pure silence under what little stars we can see. Our tacos have long been devoured and fatigue has set in.

"Just to get it clear, you ain't mad about my whole not wanting to move in?" I ask in need of reminder.

Phil stares at me for a quick second and returns to looking up at the sky, "Honestly, I didn't expect you to say anything different." he replies with an awkward laugh, "It just felt so right. Just wanted to get you out of that neighborhood before I leave because I know it still hurts to walk around a place with so many memories." he coughs, "It'd be nice to have you panties in my drawer for a change as well."

Gasping, I smack him, "You're such a douche!" I laugh, "I ever find that your little friends have seen anything of that sort, you can kiss you balls goodbye."

Covering his groin, "Ouch, violent much?", I laugh at his fake pain and bump him and he replies with a kiss on the cheek, "I'd just like for you to elaborate on your reason."

Biting my lip, "Lockport is the only home I've ever known. That piece of shit town watched me grow—it's where I learned how ride a bike, where I got my first kiss, where I used to cause mayhem with the crew, where I became bestfriends with Micks…it's where _we_ started." I whisper the ending bit. Picking up, "So many bad memories but a few good ones, ya' know? My people, the parlor will get left behind—I-I guess, I'm just scared that I'll forget where I came from. Aside from that, I have a responsibility to Micks: her kids." Seeing his face, " You and I, we're still new."

Arms pull me into a taut body, "Ah, I know…I just—now that I got you, I just don't know. You've done something to me, Marleene Soto." He says nuzzling my hair.

"Well, well, seems to me that you've always been a hopeless romantic just hiding behind a jerk front…if only the public knew of this discovery.", I comment with a wicked smirk.

"Don't you dare, missy." He threatens biting my cheek and I shriek, "Getting back to business, about the kids…I've been thinking, you should pop the news to Micks."

Tensing up, "The girl could go into a deeper abyss though…"

"She could or she could snap out…I really don't want the man to come home to see his wife like that—bad enough he has to come home to a kid that isn't even his."

"But she's so cute…"

"True, but no man likes to imagine another all up in his woman."

Nodding my head, "I get it…but how am I going to tell her?"

"I don't know but we have to put some sense into her…soon. I know I've been chanting this but I'm leaving…and soon…and I just wanna leave clear-headed. Worry-free and if I can, you with me."

"You think too far ahead, handsome." I turn around to face him, "Can we just live in the now? I got Micks, I'll tell her. You focus on getting those feet of yours through Vince's door. I can carry my own."

"Oh, I know that you can carry your own…" he says with a suggestive glint in his eye, "I can see you in the after, doll. I just want you to see yourself there too…so, keep the offer in mind?"

I nod my head, still pretty unsure. The wind blows somewhat fierce making me shiver, "Let's go to bed."

*end of flashback*

* * *

><p>Rubbing Micks's back, I hold her still crying body in now-cold water, "We just gotta get you up on your feet and I'll be halfway through Punk's door." I mumble absentmindedly.<p>

I'm more determined to move on with my life than I've ever been. Maybe I'm not ready, maybe I am…_only one way to find out_.


	62. Author's Note!

Oh my lord, it has been a long, long minute since I've last updated!

Well, I won't waste much time now.

I've been having a terrible case of writers block for months now. A couple of lovelies have been going back and forth, wondering what's up. Truth is, I've been pacing back, reading, and I don't like the direction I took with this story. You know how when you're really like a show, you watch it season after season but realize it's not quality anymore? It seems to fall off? That's what I feel happened here.

Cutting to the chase, I'm thinking about re-writing the story instead of trying to fix it without confusing you guys. I hope you don't hate me and I hope y'all will backtrack with me. I sincerely appreciate all the support: follows, reviews, PMs, favorites, or by simply clicking.

Wish me luck on my future endeavours!

Yours truly,

ConchaaRex


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